DD 

ru 


LlfftARY 

CAUFCXNU 


ON  V 
RELIGIOUS,  MORAL,  SENTIMENTAL  AND 


BY  WILLIAM  RAY. 


TO   TVHICH    IS   ADDED, 

-A    BRIEF    SKETCH    OF    THE    AUTHOR?S    LIFE,    AND 

OF     HIS      CAPTIVITY    AND    SUFFERINGS    A- 

MONG    THE    TURKS    AND  BARBARIANS 

OF    TRIPOLI,  ON    THE    COAST  OF 

AFRICA  -  WRITTEN    BY 

HIMSELF, 


To  thee,  O  sacred  Muse,  belongs 
Devotion's  humble  roice, 

That  breaks  in  sw_-et  adorinfr  songs, 

Like  tJiose  where  holy 
EttrualJy  rrjoiee. 


AUBURN : 

FBINTED    BV    U.   S.   DOUBLEDAY. 
1821. 


IOAN  STACK 


NORTHERN  PISTR1CT  > 

Of  NEW-YOWK,          3    TO  WIT: 

BE  IT  RKMEMKEUED,-ThQt  on  the  eighth  day 
L.    §.  of  October,  in  the  forty-sixth  tear  of'the  In«'<  prud 

ence  c'  the  Unit'-d  Stvei  of  America,  A    D.  i«2i, 
WILLIAM   HAY,  ot  the  said  District,  has  ilepOM- 

-*ffl  in  this  Office  the  title  of    a  Bo<>k,  the   right  whereof  he   claims  as 
A uti  or,  in  the  \v»r<i*  following,  to  wit: 

**  P<*  mi,  on    var'oos    su'ifects,—  IftcTig-'ons,  Moral,  ?enti»nent»)  nnd 

Hwm  ions.     BY  WILLIAM  RAY.     To  M  hich  is  adde:l,  a    bnet  skt-tvh 

of.tlie  fliiihoi-'s  life,  an«l  ol  his  captivity  and  Mffieiingl  «nu)iig  tlie  1  nrk* 

arid  Barbarians  of  Tripoli,  on  the  coast  of  Africa  ;  written   by  himself. 

"To  thet,  O  sacred  Mine,  belongs 

Devotion's  humble  voice1. 
That  breaks  in  swee'  adoring  soners, 
Lite  th  se  wlim-  holy  angcl-;h<oi:gs 

Eu-rn:>!iy  rejoice. 

Tn  conrormify  to  'he  act  of  the  Conprt «  or  the  LT;,ited  Stntrs,enr|tlrrt 
*'  An  *ct  fiirthe  i"iicoura>,cnieiir  of  learning,  by  semrinsr  the  copiei  of 
Mups,  Charts,  ard  Pooki.  to  tlu  authors  snd  pn  printers  o!  such  copies, 
(lining  ihe  times  rlnTein  nit-ntiened  ;"  and  al«o,  to  the  act  ei'ti'lril  ••  An 
«ct  snj.plt  rnentary  to  ar-  act  entitled  k  Ai>  act  for  the  ei  couracement  of 
leaii>ii!R,  by  securing  the  « «p«-«- ot-MT^is,  Cliartv,  end  Books,  tc.  the 
authors  and  proprietor*  of  such  copies  during  th»  times  therein  men- 
t'--:netl,'  aud  ex-end-r  •  tf>e  bentfrs  t.Vereo*  to  'le  arts  01  Designing, 
Engraving  ar»d  Etching  historic^!  and  other  prii  ts-*' 

HK'H'D  R.  LANSING.  Clei-k 
of  tie  Northern  District  of  Ncw.Voilr, 


THE  Editors  ef  Public  Journals  have  been  pleas 
ed  to  express  their  spontaneous  sentiments  in 
iiivor  of  some  cf  the  poems  in  the  following 
work.  From  a  multiplicity  of  complimentary 
remarks,  and  public  notices,  the  subsequent  ones 
are  extracted. 

"  In  the  following,  as  well  from  the  initials  W.  R. 
as  Irom  the  elegant  flow  of  genius,  ve  recognize 
ll.e  pen  of  the  distinguished  American  poet,  \Vil- 
liam  Ray.  Esq."  Palladium  of  Liberty. 

"The  Sacred  Melodies  of  Byron  and  Moore, 
have  been  much  admired,  and  many  of  t-iem  very 
justly  :  but  we  do  not  recollect  one  of  them,  and 
•we  have  read  them  all,  which  we  think  superior  to 
the  following,  which  is  avowedly  from  the  pen  of 
^Vililam  Ray."  2'lough-Boy. 

"  The  following  beautiful  lines  are  from  the  pen 
of  William  Ray,  Esq.  ot  Onondaga.  whose  poetical 
effusions  have  often  delighted  the  public,  and  whose 
genius  and  taste  ought  to  have  secured  to  him  t-.e 
smiles,  instead  ot  the  sternest  frowns,  of  For 
tune."  Nett'-Yurlc  Statesman. 

"  The  following  poem  is  from  the  pen  of  Wil 
liam  Ray,  that  favorite  of  genius  and  son  of  mis 
fortune.*7  dlbary  Register. 

"  Mr.  Ray,  as  a  poet,  possesses  genius  of  no  or 
dinary  cast.  Many  of  his  effusions,  humorous., 
niorul  and  Penti mental,  we  have  read  with  great 
pleasure,  and  we  have  no  doubr  he  will  nuke  an 
feo'tereatio  volume.  A'cir- Turk  Sectator. 


589 


IV. 

i(  We  can  judge  of  the  general  character  of  the 
Poems  proposed  to  be  published  by  William  Ray, 
only  by  the  merit  of  such  of  them  as  have  occa 
sionally  appeared  in  the  public  newspapers.  Those 
we  have  seen,  evinced,  in  our  opinion,  genius  of 
no  common  order,  genuine  poetic  taste,  purity  of 
sentiment,  and  occasionally  a  richness  of  figure 
and  harmony  of  style,  fully  equal  to  some  of  the 
eminent  English  poets.  His  religious  effusions 
breathe  the  fervor  of  sincere  devotion,  and  speak 
the  sentiments  and  feelings  of  the  cheerful  Chris 
tian,  '  who  looks  through  Nature  up  to  Nature's 
God  ;'  hi#  moral  and  sentimental  pieces  are  such 
as  he  who  loves  Virtue  for  herself  alone,  would 
fasten  on  his  memory ;  and  his  humorous  produc 
tions  never  degenerate  into  «  lascivious  lyrics,'  but 
'  uniformly  convey  a  lesson  slyly  to  the  heart."* 
Neiv-York  Journal  and  latron  of  Industry^ 


PREFACE. 

IT  is  said,  I  think  by  Dr.  Johnson? 
that  a  work  which  requires  an  apology 
from  the  author  for  making  it  public, 
for  that  very  reason  never  ought  to  be 
published.  As  to  the  literary  merit  of 
a  work,  this  may  be  true  ;  but  in  some 
other  respects^  it  may  not.  I  must  beg 
leave,  therefore,  to  dissent  from  this 
general  opinion  of  the  great  Doctor,  so 
far  as  to  say,  that  several  of  the  follow 
ing  poems  were  written  without  much 
study  or  reflection,  as  the  spontaneous 
thoughts  of  the  writer,  at  times  of  great 
political  excitement ;  and  that  they  have 
been  retained  in  this  publication,  not  to 
revive  party  prejudices,  but  only  as 
specimens  of  the  spirit  of  those  times, 
now  past,  when  the  writer  thought  pro 
per  to  exercise  the  common  privilege  of 
expressing  his  sentiments  in  this  form, 
and  which  he  then  chose — that  is,  in  a 
loose  and  careless  set  of  rhymes. — • 
Should  he  be  so  unfortunate  as  to  give 


vK  PREFACE. 

offence  to  any  of  his  readers,  all  he  has 
to  *a\,  is,  that  he  shall  severely  lament 
such  a  perverted  construction  oi  his 
meaning,  and  ishail  not  cease  to  declare, 
tlial  it  is  Car,  very  far  from  his  intention 
toghe  the  least  umbrage  to  any  of  his 
ieliow- citizen*  in  the  subsequent  pa 
ges,  either  in  a  moral,  political,  reli 
gious,  or  any  other  point  of  view. 


CONTENTS. 


TT>ey  that  sow  in  tears  shall  reap  in  joy,        .  .  .10 

The  Uiiuc'i,  ,  ....        12 

Death,  .  .  •  .  .  13 

Hjjnn  for  Thanksgiving,  ...  .16 

To  A  Christian  bel  evtr  under  affliction,  .  .         16 

RrLgiou  ......  IS 

Sprrait  ing  of  the  Gospel,  .  ...  20 

A  precious  Halsam,  .  .  .  SI 

The  rich  man  ana  Lazarus,  .  .  .  .23 

Death  o   the  CLr»ti.  n  and  the  Prayer  of  Faith,  .  .26 

To  tire  Msuri.t.isi  or  Atheist,  .  .  .  .29 

Summer  evening,  ...  ,39 

To  iwt,      '         .  ...  32 

The  Plough  Boy,  .  .  .37 

The  ML-  drcant,  .          .  .  .  :  41 

Memento,  ..:...  44 

Execuiion  of  Richard  Smith,  .  .  .  .47 

Ou  the  massacre  oi  lite  American  prisoners,  at  Dartmoor  prison,        49 
FaKe  estimate  of  the  wor  1,  .  .  .  .52 

Vu-e  an  !  Virtue,  Libert,}  and  Oppression,  .  .  .        54 

To  my  youn.4  niece,  ,  ....  57 

To  th    nir-inory  Of  General  Pike,  .  .  .        59  &.  1T* 

I>  dependence,  .  .  .  .  .  .        «0 

F  ith.  .  .  .  .  63 

R.  ,;oice  with  them  that  do  rejoice,  &e.  .  .  .64 

K<'»-Ytars  Address,  1817,  eg 

A  Voyage,  ......  «9 

E'icicising  ship,  .....  70 

T'.e  L,:>*f,  .  .  .  .  72 

El  Ky  on  the  death  of  John  Hilliard,  ,  .  .    74  &  l  ;1 

.E!e^-.  oi»  the  dt-ath  of  L:>eut.  James  Decatur,  .  .  74 

L      »  ^(Mresved  to  Gen.  Eaton,  .  .  77 

De^t•r.p  :oii  'it' Tripoli,  .  .  .  .  .         79 

Vt  a  .  or  a  pr«.i'p-  ct  of  it,  .  ;  .  .  .      81 

To  she  memory  oi  CumacklorePreblc,  .  .  .83 

.  .  87 


viii.  CONTENTS. 

A  poefic  .1  address,  .  .  .  .  m, 

Song,  written  m  Tropili,  ....  95 

Political,  ......  97 

To  those  democratic  members  of  Congress  who  votetifor  the  salary  bilLSQ 
The  paper;,  .  .  .  .  102 

Evils.  .....  .105 

Spring,  ...  107 

Sjinpaihy,  .  .109 

To  Summer,  .  .  .  .  .  .111 

Autumn,  ...  ...  114 

The  way  to  be  happy,  .  •  .  .  .115 

Worai.n,  .  .  .  .  .  .117 

Fire,  ....  .  .  .  118 

Spring  120 

Eighteen  hundred  twenty,  .  .121 

Spring,  .  .  .      123 

The  plough  boy  and  the  dandy,  .        125 

The  Hill  and  Hollow,  .  .127 

The  grand  canal,  «  •  13 » 

The  complaint,  .  .  133 

From  a  mttii  in  the  earth  to  man  in  the  moon,  .  .        IS5 

Village  Greatik<  ss,  .  ...  137 

The  thunuer    storm.  .  .  .        139 

The  Hive,  .        140 

False  friendship,  .  .142 

Uemorse  on  killing  a  squ  irel,       .  .  .        144 

To  the  bard  ol  I'hUadclphia,  .  -        146 

I*w,  •  -      148 

Tom  Eagle,  -  -        150 

Perpetual  motion,  ...  m 

New  \i;urs  a:idrtss,  1819,  .  .  153 

Return  ot  spring  and  approach  of  May,  -  -153 

The  carrier  ot  the  Plough  iloj  10  his  patrons,  .  ieo 

Carrier's   address  to  Uu   p.itroiis  ol'  the  New-York  Statesman,       •    165 
Ke\vkthrs  address  ior  1821,  -        109 

Carner  ot  tiie  Gazeue  and  Ouoridaga  Advt  rtiser  to  his  patrons,        172 
Petition  to  the  Conveition  in  behall  o!  the  ladies,  •  •        174 

Klt-gy  on  tlie  clra  li  of  James  Chauncey  Alaun,  •  .          177 

Kxordium,  -  183 

the  Author's  Life,  *  -          199 


POEMS 


From  the  Albany  Register,  Feb.  28,  1817. 


We  are  indebted  to  WILLIAM  RAY,  Esq.  of  Oaon- 
daga,for  the  following  pious  and  beautiful  effusion. 
Mr.  RAY  is  a  self-taught  genius.  Many  of  his  po 
ems  are  very  excellent,  and  want  nothing  but  the 
prunings  and  graftings  of  his  own  judgment,  in  a 
deliberate  moment,  to  render  them  worthy  of  uni 
versal  patronage. 

In  Religious  Poetry,  a  new  era  is  commencing. 
The  plain  and  almost  literal  versions  of  the  Psalms 
of  David,  in  metrical  composition,  which  have  hith 
erto  stood  unrivalled,  are  giving  way  to  versions 
of  a  more  figurative  and  poetical  cast,  from  the 
pens  of  BYROX  and  MOORE.  The  latter,  we  think, 
excels  in  his  flights  in  this  exalted  and  sublime  re 
gion  of  the  MUSES.  But  our  own  RAY,  if  he  would 
but  devote  himself  to  the  task,  iiji^ht  prove  that 
Europe  is  not  the  exclusive  seat  of  the  Muses,  nor 
the  only  source  of  SACRED  MELODIES,  calculated  to 
inspire  a  relish  for  Scriptural  reading,  and  to  in 
struct  and  delight  the  Philosopher  and  the  Chris 
tian. 

In  the  following  effusion,  Vve  perceive  the  son  of 
adversity,  calmly  smiling  at  the  storms  of  life, 
B 


10  POEMS. 

which  serve  but  to  point  him  to  a  higher  sphere  of 
existence,  to  animate  his  hopes  and  brighten  his 
prospects  of  "  another  and  a  better  world." 

"  Tfiey  that  sow  in  tears,  shall  reap  in  joy." 

PSALMS. 
CONTRITE  mourner  !  though  thy  tears, 

Like  the  melting  show'rs  of  spring, 
Fall  from  clouds  of  grief  and  fears, 
Fruitful  harvests  shall  they  bring  ; 
Harvests  where  no  toils  annoy, 
Sown  in  tears,  but  reap'd  in  joy. 

Hast  thou  lost  a  bosom  friend, 

Buried  lifeless  in  the  clay? 
Of  thy  sorrows  see  an  end, 

At  the  last  great  harvest  day  : 
Though  his  body  worms  destroy, 
Sown  in  tears,  'tis  rais'd  in  joy. 

Disappointments  hast  thou  found, 

Disconcerting  ev'ry  scheme  ? 
Sow  thy  hopes  in  heav'nly  ground, 

Earthly  bliss  is  all  a  dream  : 
Pleasures  fatally  decoy, 
Reap'd  in  tears,  if  sown  in  joy. 

Keen  afflictions  dost  thou  feel, 
Poverty,  disease,  and  pain  ? 


POEMS.  11 

iEnow,  the  hand  that  ivounds  can  heal, 

Temporal  loss — eternal  gain  : 
Rich  the  harvest,  sweet  th'  employ 
Sown  in  tears,  to  reap  in  joy. 

Sent  to  call  the  wand'rer  home, 
Lov'd,  if  chasten'd  by  the  LORD. 

Lo  !  he  bids  the  contrite  come — 
By  his  spirit — in  his  word — 

To  exchange  a  puerile-iojc,  . 

For  a  world  of  endless  joy. 

Wounded  mourner  !  cease  to  weep, 
Though  foul  crimes  may  stain  thy  soul, 

Boundless  MERCY,  free  and  deep, 
Bids  thee  wash,  be  clean,  and  whole ; 

Then  go  reap,  with  no  alloy, 

HARVESTS  OF  ETERNAL  JOY. 


From  the  Plough  Boy. 

Iii  a  former  number,  we  mentioned  Mr  Ray  as  a 
poetical  writer  of  more  than  ordinary  merit  "  T'.e 
following  effusion-  will  justify  our  opinion.  The 
Sacred  Melodies  of  Byron  and  Moore  have  been 
much  admired,  and  many  of  them  very  justly.— 
But  we  do  not  recollect  one  of  them,  and  we  have 
read  them  all,  which  we  think  superior  to  the  fol 
lowing,  which  is  avowedly  from  the  pen  of  William 


POEMS; 
THE  CHURCH. 

PURE  and  holy  is  the  source, 

"Whence  thy  stream,  O  Zion,  rose; 

See,  majestic  in  its  course, 
Regions  vast  it  overflows, 

Fertilizing  like  the  Nile, 

Barren  continent  and  isle. 

Angel-ministers  attend — 

On  its  flovv'ry  margins  meet— 

Heavenly-choral  anthems  blend, 
(Muaic  ravishing! y  sweet) 

With  a  SAVIOUR'S  voice  divine, 

Turning  all  its  floods  to  wine. 

Ho,  ye  thirsty,  gather  round, 
Drink  your  everlasting  fill  I. 

Hear  the  gospel  tidings  sound — 
"  Peace  on  earth,  to  men  good  willf- 

Yet  unbroken  is  the  strain, 

Heard  upon  the  shepherd's  plain. 

CHRIST,  the  BISHOP  of  our  souls, 
Open  will  the  channel  keep ; 

Free  the  tide  of  mercy    rolls, 
As  the  billows  of  the  deep; 

Broad  and  copious  as  the  wave, 

Js  the  inifcbum  that  he  gave ;-~ 


POEMS; 

•'Ev'ry  creature  go  and  teach, 

You  I  send  as  I  am  sent, 
AVide  ordained  my  word  to  preacha 

Calling  millions  to  repent, — 
This  uninterrupted  line 
Shall  be  endless — is  divine. '? 

Lo  the  CHURCH  of  CHRIST  appears 
Fair  in  lustre  as  the  moon ! 

Brighter,  from  the  night  of  years, 

Than  the  cloudless  Sun  at  noon— 
Terribly  she  moves  along, 
As  an  army-bannerd  throng ! 

Life  dispensing  as  she  goes, 

Glory  beaming  from  her  face, 
Conquering  her  rebellious  foes, 

13y  the  pow'r  of  boundless  grace — 
By  the  Spirit's  two-edg'd  sword  — 
Througn  the  might  of  CHRIST  our  LORD. 


DEATH. 

DEATH  S— what  a  dreadful  thought  to  those 
Who  build  their  heav'n  on  earth,  and  lay 
The  basis  of  their  future  woes, 

Which  floods  can  never  wash  a\vav. 
On  rocks — whilst  all  their  hopes -must  stand 
Like  dwellings  built  upon  the  sand. 
B  2 


14  POEMS. 

Plagues,  like  the  billows  of  the  deep, 
Around  their  frail  foundations  pour ; 

Their  honors  level'd  at  a  sweep, 
And  lo!  their  glory  is  no  more  ! 

Eternity's  tremendous  waves 

Of  fiery  vengeance,  prove  their  graves! 

DEATH  ! — how  appalling  is  the  sound 

To  age  yet  uprepared  to  die — 
To  AGE who  surely  must  have  found 

That  life's  last  watch  is  passing  by, 
And  yet,  O  madness !  never  seem 
To  wake  from  folly's  awful  dream  1 

DEATH  ! — how  alarming  is  the  call 
To  youth,  by  lawless  pleasures  led, 

Who  see  their  inmates  daily  fall, 
Amid  gay  sports  among  the  dead ; 

And  yet  their  dangerous  course  pursue, 

"With  naught  but  keen  remorse  in  view. 

DEATH  ! — Dark  and  dismal  is  the  sight, 
To  all  who  are  of  sin  the  slave  ; 

To  those  who  never  saw  that  light 

Which  cheers  our  passage  to  the  grave  j 

To  those  who  never  felt  that  love, 

Which  charms  the  raptur'd  hosts  above. 

But — DEATH  !  how  welcome  to  the  soul 
Diseas'd  aud  sorrowing — pain'd  with  fears- 


POEMS. 

Till  by  a  lively  faith  made  whole, 
And  wasli'd  in  penitential  tears, 
It  longs  to  mingle  with  the  bless'd- 
Longs  for  a  heav'n  of  holy  rest. 


HYMN  FOR  THANKSGIVING. 

DECEMBER  22,  1819. 

TO  THEE,  ALMIGHTY  LORD,  we  raise 
Our  hearts  and  hand*  in  pray'r  and  praise, 
For  all  thy  mercies  plead  and  prove 
Thy  word  is  true,  that  "  GOD  is  LOVE." 

How  many  dangers,  woes  and  fears, 
Have  pass'd  like  dreams  of  other  years, 
How  many  blessings  from  above, 
Sound  as  they  fall,  that «  GOD  is  LOVE." 

That  pestilence,  whose  venom'd  breath 
Infus'd  the  very  life  of. Death, 
The  voice  of  mercy  bade  "  remove," 
And  thus  proclainvd  that  "  GOD  is  LOVE.** 

The  bounteous  products  of  the  soil, 

The  rich  reward  of  honest  toil, 

To  praise  the  LORD  our  tongues  should  move. 

For  these  attest,  that  "  GOD  i&  LOVE." 

Freedom  her  golden  gifts  extends 
To  us,  her  faithful  chosen  friends  -y 


4"  POEMS. 

The  breeze  of  health  waves  every  grove, 
And  gen tlv  whispers,  ."  GOD  is  LOVE.?:> 

Science  her  light  around  us  pours, 
Religion  triumphs — Faith  adores, 
While  peac»,  the  heavenly  turtle-dove, 
Coos  in  soft  strains,  that  "  GOD  is  LOVE." 

But  brighter  attestations  shine 

Recorded  in  that  Book  divine, 

The  SAViOUR's  mission  from  above, 

SEALS  THE  GREAT  TRUTH,  THAT  GOD  is  LOVE, 


TO  A  CHRISTIAN  BELIEVER  UNDER 

AFFLICTION. 
HEIR  of  immortal  glory  !  why 

At  care  and  want  repine  ? 
Hast  thou  not  joys  enough  on  ' i^h  ? 

Are  not  lieav'n's  treasures  th.ne  ? 

Treasures  which  neither  moth  nor  rust 
Corrupts,  nor  thieves  can  share; 

But  opened  by  the  pure  and  just, 
The  key  of  faith  in  prayer. 

Why  then  so  wretched  ?  come,  relate 

AY  hat  weighs  thy  spirits  down  ? 
Has  FRIENDSHIP  turn'cl  her  love  to  hate, 

And  left  thee  with  a  frown  ? 


POEMS.  If 

Has  base  INGRATITUDE  repaid 

Thy  favors  with  disdain 
A  menial  in  thy  gifts  array'd, 

Grown  insolent  and  vain  ? 

Has  HAPPINESS,  with  all  her  charms, 

When  blessing  thee  a  while, 
Gone  to  some  envious  rival's  arms, 

!Novv  basking  in  her  smile  ? 

Do  foes  encompass  thee  around, 

And  threaten  to  destroy 
That  peace  which  only  can  be  found, 

In  calm  domestic  joy  ? 

Is  not  the  ALMIGHTY  LORD  thy  friend. 
Though  friends  are  faithless  here? 

And  canst  thou  not  on  him  depend, 
To  vanquish  every  fear  ? 

Has  DEATH,  with  coM  unsparing  hand, 

Thy  brightest  hopes-laid  low, 
In  heaven  those  hopes  shall  live,  expand, 

Re-bloom,  and  brighter  grow. 

And  though  the  world  with  scornful  look, 

Thy  low  estate  despise, 
"With  patience  firm  those  insults  brook5 

Thou  iav'rite  of  the  skies. 


YS  POEMS; 

A  few  more  years,  (perchance  a  day) 
Shall  waft  thy  soul  above, 

Where  every  tear  is  wip'd  away, 
And  all  is  peace  and  love. 

Heir  of  immortal  bliss !  then  why 

At  worldly  woes  repine  ? 
When  all  heav'n's  joys  before  thee  lie, 

And  are  by  promise  thine. 


RELIGION. 

Ask  but  the  man  who  has  a  head 

Susceptible  of  thought; 
A  heart  not  all  to  virtue  dead, 

But  feeling  as  it  ought; 

Whether  he  candidly  believe* 

Religion  all  a  jest; 
A  farce  which  purposely  deceives, 

To  make  the  soul  unblest  ? 

Would  God,  all  merciful  and  just, 

A  weapon  thus  employ, 
Our  hopes  to  prostrate  in  the  dust, 

And  stab  our  only  joy  ? 

Ah,  no — what  millions  answer  no,  - 
Who  feel  its  vital  pow'r, 


POEMS, 

A  balm  for  ev'ry  poignant  woe, 
In  trouble's  painful  hour : — 

A  lamp  which  casts  beyond  the  grare 

Its  ever  cheering  ray; — 
A  ransom  for  the  hell-bound  slave — 

And  endless,  joyous  day  .' 

What  can  the  atheist,  in  exchange, 
Give  for  so  great  a  prize  ? 

Annihilation's  lot  (how  strange) 
For  kingdoms  in  the  skies — 

A  few  base  sordid  pleasures,  here, 
Scarce  worth  a  fool's  pursuit ; 

And  for  eternity a  yearJ 

A  seraph  for  a  brute  ! 

Blot  from  the  universe  the  sun, 

And  ev'ry  paler  light : 
See  all  creation's  works  undone, 

And  sunk  in  endless  night; 

Take,  ruthless  infidel,  away, 

Whatever  else  you  can, 
But  leave,  O  leave  us  mental  dayj 

The  light  of  GOD  to  man. 


£0  POEMS. 

SPREADING  OF  THE  GOSPEL. 

STAR  IN  THE  WEST. 

•find  I  will  give  him  the  Morning  Star. — Rev. 
T?  ILLUME  the  earth's  benighted  face, 
With  beams  of  all-redeeming  grace- 
To  g;ive  that  face,  in  tears  erewhile, 
A  placid,  heav'nly  joyous  smile — 
To  light  the  weary  world  to  rest, 
A  star  is  rising  in  the  west. 

"With  lustre  mild  and  look  serene, 

The  fair  phenomenon  is  seen  ; 

A  lamp,  to  guide  the  darksome  way 

Of  infidelity  astray, 

Back  to  the  regions  of  the  blest — 

A  star  is  rising  in  the  west! 

Has  nature,  then,  revers'd  her  scheme? 
Does  from  the  ivest  a  day-star  beam  ? 
Yes — But  it  is  not  nature's  light ; 
A  star  more  heav'nly,  pure  and  bright, 
Shines  from  the  Great  Immanuel's  breasts 
To  light  the  nations  in  the  west, 

"When  stars  of  night  and  suns  of  day, 
Extinguish'd  shall  have  pass'd  away; 
And  this  vast  universe  decay'd— 
Dissolved  to  nothing  but  a  shade, 
Of  that  supernal  gem  possess'd, 
The  star  that's  rising  in  the  west 


POEMS. 

'When  stars  of  night,  and  suns  of  day, 
Extinguish'd,  shall  have  passM  away; 
And  this  vast  universe,  decay'd — 
Dissolved  to  nothing  but  a  shade, 
Of  that  supernal  gem  possessed, 
The  star  that's  rising  in  the  west, 

What  joyful  millions  shall  behold, 
And  feel,  its  mysteries  unfold — 
A  sun  of  glory,- brighter  grown,  * 
Blazing  around  JEHOVAH'S  throne  ! 
By  all  the  ransom'd  throng  ccnfeas'd, 
.  The  star  that  now  illumes  the  ivest. 


A  PRECIOUS  BALSAM. 
THERE  is  a  balsam  all  may  find, 
To  heal  the  deeply-wounded  mind, 

Though  mortal  may  that  wound  appear; 
The  lame,  the  halt,  the  blind,  the  deaf, 
The  dumb,  the  dying  own  relief, 

Nor  is  it  what  the  world  calls  dean 


It  costs  the  broken  heart  a 
The  contrite  spirit,  prau'r  ; 

It  costs  the  penitential  eye, 
A  look  for  mercy  then*. 

C 


22  POEMS. 

Rich  is  the  treasure  :  for  it  gives 
To  ev'ry  needy  soul  that  lives, 

The  gold  of  health,  for  dross — 
For  trouble,  joy — for  sorrow,  bliss , 
And,  in  a  better  world  than  this, 

A  kingdom  for  a  cross. 

'Tis  not  the  merchandize  of  earth, 
Her  empires  ne'er  contain'd  its  worth ; 

In  realms  of  heav'n  alone, 
There,  on  the  Tree  of  Life,  it  grows, 
Where  the  full  stream  of  mercy  flows, 

Around  the  ALMIGHTY'S  throne. 

Angels  in  pity  bear  it  thence, 
As  mortals  seek  the  prize— 
The  rich  catholicon  dispense — 

It  opens  blind-born  eyes  ! 
From  tongues  that  never  spake  before, 
The  deaf  now  hear  loud  anthems  roar  ! 

The  Great  Physician's  skill, 

The  tenor  of  their  song ; 
The  same  that  cures  has  pow'r  to  kill, 

Or  anguish  to  prolong. 

No  analyzing  pow'r 

Its  properties  require ; 
No  flames  refine  it,  or  devour, 

Nor  hell's  eternal  fire. 


POEMS.  £ 

Kfi-own  in  a  thousand  various  climes— 

By  spurious  terms  express'J  ;' 
Though  there  the  bigot's  bloody  crimes 

Are  often  with  it  dress'd  ; 

Yet  to  apply  its  Jenuine  pow'r, 

How  few  have  found  the  art — 
Tis  known— His  calPd— in  death's  dread  hour, 

RELIGION— of  the  heart. 


[Sensible.that  nothing  can  be  added  to  the  beau 
ty  and  sublimity  of  the  Scripture,  the  Author,  in 
the  following,  has  not  aimed  at  any  embellishments 
of  style,  but^merely  to  give  a  plain  literal  versifica 
tion—not  with  the  hope  of  improving  upon  the  in 
spired  penman,  but  with  the  view  of  turning  the 
reader's  more  deep  attention  to  the  awful  story,  aa 
related  in  the  sacred  volume  of  DIVINE  TRUTH.] 

THE  RICH  MAN  AND  LAZARUS, 
A  CERTAIN  rich  man,  worldly  blest, 
In  purple  and  fine  linen  drest, 

Liv'd  sumptuous  ev'ry  day; 
And  lo !  a  beggar  at  his  doors, 
Naked  and  starving,  full  of  sores,  > 

In  humble  posture  lay  ; 

Craving  the  scanty  Crumbs  that  fell. 
Arotnd  his  table,  furnish'd  well, 
With  high,  delicious  fare ; 


24  POEMS. 

E'en  dogs  their  sympathy  expressed, 
And  to  the  way-worn  stranger-guest, 
ShowM  ev'ry  tender  care : 

Their  soft  and  healing  tongues  applied-*- 
Tongues  to  the  use  of  speed?  denied, 

How  eloquently  mute ! 
Proclaiming  more  than  language  can, 
The  cold  benevolence  of  man, 

Contrasted  with  the  brute ! 

But  what  an  awful  sequel  flows 
From  human  grandeur — human  woas, 

And  how  reversed  the  scene  ! 
From  earth  to  heav'n — from  heav'n  to  hell, 
The  one  was  call'd — the  other  fell— 

A  yawning  gulph  between  ! 

From  regions  of  eternal  pain, 
The  rich  man  lifts  his  eyes  in  vain, 

To  realms  forever  blest- 
Sees  Laz'rus,  late  his  haughty  scorn, 
Whom  glorious  vestments  now  adorn, 

In  Abram's  bosom  rest. 

4  Send  Laz'rus,*  was  the  fruitless  pray'r, 
From  the  lost  soul  of  ghast  despair, 

With  flaming  tortures  wrung, 
*  In  water  let  his  linger  dip, 
And  touch,  if  only  with  the  tip, 

And  cool  my  burning  tongue.'* 


POEMS,  25 

«  Remember,  son,'  the  Patriarch  cried, 
'  In  all  the  pomp  of  wealth  and  pride, 

Thou  recently  didst  roll ; 
Laz'rus,  then  doouvd  to  want  and  pain. 
Now  in  immortal  bliss  shall  reign, 

While  torments  rend  thy  soul.' 

Fraternal  feeling,  nature's  dart, 
PiercM  the  hard  centre  of  a  heart 

Condemn'd  to  endless  woe  ; 
*  To  my  five  brethren  Laz'rus  send, 
To  warn  them  of  my  fearful  end, 

Lest  they  the  like  should  know.' 

Thus  roar'd  the  hopeless  heir  of  hell, 
Whom  sainted  Abram  deigns  to  tell ; 

*  The  prophets  and  the  law 
They  have ;  and  let  them  see  in  those, 
How  free  Almighty  mercy  flows, 

And  thence  salvation  draw.' 

'  Nay,  father  Abram,'  ansvver'd  he, 
c  But  if  a  ghostly  form  they  see, 

On  such  commission  sent, 
Surely  a  message  from  the  dead, 
Would  strike  their  souls  with  quiv'rirtg  dread, 

And  cause  them  to  repeat. 

*  If  Moses  and  the  prophets  they 
Refuse  to  follow  and  obey — , 
C  2 


£6  .POEMS. 

Believe,  (said  he)  «  embrace — 
Not  all  the  terrors  of  the  grave, 
Of  death  and  hell,  the  wretch  shall  save, 

Who  spurns  redeeming  grace.' 

Thus  ends  the  dialogue  between 

The  bless'd  and  curs'd— -tremendous  sceae. 

Hell  kindling  with  the  great ! 
The  niggard  souls  of  misers,  too, 
May  take  an  awful,  timely  viev/ 

Of  their  portentious  fate. 


From  the  Plough  Boy. 
MR.  RAY'S  ODE. 

The  pious  reader  will  be  highly  gratified  in  the 
perusal  of  Mr.  RAY'S  ode,  in  our  columns  of  this 
day.  \Ve  understand  Mr.  R.  contemplates  pub 
lishing  a  revised  and  corrected  edition  of  his  poems. 
Jf  so,  we  cannot  but  wish  him  success.  The  most 
of  them  are  pious  effusions,  and  many  of  them 
written  in  the  true  spirit  of  poetry,  arid  the  fervor 
of  genius. 

DEATH  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN—AND  TUB 
PRAYER  OF  FAITH. 

"  0  that  I  might  die  the  death  of  the  Righteous." 

I. 

JOYFUL,  and  yet  tremendous  hour, 

When  from  the  dungeon  cell  of  clay, 


POEMS.  27- 

The  soul,  by  Death's  dissolving  powV, 
Breaks  forth — looks  round—and  ail  is  day  ! 

A  vast  eternity  before 

The  disembodied  spirit  lies, 

And  shudd'ring  on  its  awful  shore, 
The  new-born  nestling  of  the  skies, 

<jazinp;and  wond'ring,  soars  with  eagle  Sight, 

Through  stars  and  suns — undazzled  at  the  sight 
II. 

And  Oh!  what  wonders  burst  upon  the  view, 
As  Heaven's  all  glorious  splendors  wide  unjbhk 

"What  sweet  Hosannas — anthems  ever  new— 
What  thrones  of  saphire— diadems  of  gold, 

Of  suffering,  spotless  virtue,  the  reward, 

Await  fot  all  the  ransoni'd  of  the  Lord. 
III. 

The  Spirit  and  the  bride  say  come, 

Enjoy  thy  ever-blissful  home; 

Again  arch-angels  strike  their  lyres-* 

Again  Redemption's  joyful  song, 

Warbled  through  all  the  heav'nly  throng, 

From  every  saint  and  angel's  tongue, 

In  holy  chorus  pours  along;, 
And  rapturous  bliss  inspires. 
IV. 

A  robe  of  pure  unsullied  white, 
Tlie  blood -wash 'd  soul  adorns, 

A.  crown,  with  stars  of  glory  bright^ 


£8  POEMS. 

Stars  that  have  never  seen  the  night, 

Is  giv'n  by  Him  whose  countenance  is  light, 

By  him  who  once  was  crown'd  with  thorns. 

V. 
The  ravish'd  soul  looks  down  on  earth, 

Benighted  world  of  griefs  and  fears; 
Vast  nations  buoyant  on  a  scalding  flood, 

Of  human  misery's  tears, 
Whole  kingdoms  wreaking  with  the  blood 

Of  virtue's  holy  martyrs,  years  on  years  ; 
A  World  that  gave  a  SAVIOUR  birth, 

How  wretched — wretched  now,    thlPworld  ap 
pears  ! 

VI. 
Gould  earthly  woes  celestial  realms  invade, 

O'erwhelm'd  with  sorrows  would  the  righteous  bsf9 
But  here,  forever,  thy  proud  waves  are  stay'd, 

Thou  troubled  ocean  of  mortality ; 
Death  and  eternity,  the  wall  and  line, 
That  bars  affliction,  mortal  from  divine. 
No  dreams  of  sufferings  past,  or  worldly  woes, 
Disturb  the  tranquil  morn  of  Faith's  repose  ; 
But  rest  unceasing  to  the  saint  is  given, 
And  all  the  life,  and  bliss,  and  heaven  of  heaven. 

VII. 
Oh !  for  the  wings  of  the  bright  early  morning, 

Svvitter  than  light  would  they  bear  me  away, 
Whore  those  blest  martyrs  are  both  worlds  adorning*, 

Fairer  than  beauty,  and  brighter  than  day. 


POEMS. 

OK!  for  the  death  bf  the  righteous  and  holy, 
Oh!  for  the  vict'ry  o'er  hell  and  the  grave, 

Come,  blessed  moments,  why  travel  so  slowly  ? 
GOD,  is  thine  arm  not  Almighty  to  save  ? 

Save  me  from  scenes  of  unparallel'd  sorrow, 
Darker  lhan  night-clouds  that  shut  out  my  soul 

From  the  blest  day-spring  of  hope  on  the  morrow. 
Thunders  of  Sinai,  how  awful  ye  roll ! 

But,  from  the  regions  of  glory  supernal, 

Breaks  a  sweet  voice,  full  of  comfort  and  lovej 

GOD  in  his  mercy,  unchang'd  and  eternal, 
Wounds  but  to  heal  thee  with  raptures  above. 


TO  THE  MATERIALIST  OR  ATHEIST, 
"  THERE  is  A  GODV— all  nature  cries— 

Th  rough  boundless  space  the  paean  roars! 
"  THERE  is  A  GOD'* — man's  heart  replies, 
Burns  and  adores ! 

Could  matter  self-existence  give — 

Work  into  forms  a  shapeless  clod — 
Think — reason — breathe — and  move — and  live- 
Matter  were  GOD. 

But  that  hath  ne'er  assum'd  such  pow'rs,, 
JT  would  not  he  matter  were  it  so  ; 


30  POEMS. 

Nor  Could  these  mystic  minds  of  ours, 
From  nothing  flow  i — 

Nor  could  they  flaw  without  a  source — 

A  great  intelligent  FIRST  CAUSE  ! 
Who  gave  to  matter  life  and  force — 
To  nature — laws: — 

Who  gave  to  man  a  conscious  soul — - 

An  emanation  of  his  breath ; 
A  part  of  that  eternal  WHOLE 

Shall  ne'er  see  death. 

w  THERE  is  A  GOD" — all  nature  cries — 

Through  boundless  space  loud  echo  roars ! 
"  THERE  is  A  GOD" — heav'n— earth  replies, 
KNEELS  and  ADORES. 


SUMMER  EVENING. 
CALM  SUNSET  was  clothed  in  a  beautiful  cloud 

Of  crimson  embroidered  with  gold, 
And  though  you  might  call  it  the  day's  fun'ral 

shroud, 
?Twas  splendidly  rich  to  behold. 

But  soon  those  bright  garments  assumM  a  dark  hue, 
As  day -light  took  leave  of  the  skies, 

And  Evening  was  weeping  in  tear-drops  of  dewf 
That  fell  from  her  star-beaming  eyes. 


POEM$.  Si 

fFhtis  nature  a  lesson  to  mortals  conveys, 

And  teaches  us  duly  to  mourn 
The  joys  that  are  past,  and  the  loss  of  those  days, 

That  are  gone,  and  shall  never  return.J 

The  clouds  vanish'd  all,  and  the  full  rising  moon 
Again  cheer'd  the  world  with  her  light, 

Surpassing  in  mildness  the  splendor  of  noon — 
In  truth  'twas  the  MORNING  or  NIGHT. 

Thus  sorrow  and  gladness,  like  darkness  and  day, 

Alternately  rise  and  depart 

Alternately  brighten  these  visions  of  clay, 

Or  deepen  the  gloom  of  the  heart. 

The  stars  they  all  haii'd  their  legitimate  queen. 
The  heav'ns  and  the  earth  wore  a  smile; 

But  ah  !  the  most  joyous  magnificent  scene 
Of  nature,  shall  last  but  a  while. 

The  dark  cloud  of  Death  shall  envelope  us  all— 

No  light  on  the  universe  shine — 
The  sun,  moon,  and  stars,  crush  the  earth  as  they 
fall, 

And  perish But  VIRTUE  divine, 

That  seraph  immortal,  triumphant  shall  soar 

Above  the  last  flashes  of  time, 
Re-land  on  ETERNITY'S  joy-sounding  shore, 

And,  live  in  her  own  native  clime. 


-32  POEMS. 

Where  brightness,  transcending  the  blaze  of  tin 
sun, 

Encircles  th'  ALMIGHTY  i  AM, 
And  visible  renders  the  great  THREE  IN  ONE— 

The  glory  of  GOD  and  the  LAMB. 


TO  PART. 

WHAT  a  heart-piercing  verb  is  this— 
The  murd'rer  of  all  earthly  bliss— 

O  Death,  'tis  ovvn'd  thy  keenest  dart-- 
A  festering  thorn  to  man's  repose, 
The  sharpest  sting  of  human  woes, 

Is  HeavVs  decree  that  friends  must  FART. 

Think  on  the  death-bed— on  the  shroud — 
The  wailing  friends — the  sober  crowd — 

The  mournful  coffin-— groaning  cart- 
That  must  so  shortly  bear  away 
This  feeble  tenement  of  clay — 

That  must  the  soul  and  bodyjpor/.y 

In  life's  endearing  tender  ties, 
We  look  with  fond  adoring  eyes, 

On  all  that's  precious  to  the  heart, 
The  partner  of  our  wedded  joys, 
And  b?\bes— with  such  bewitching  toys, 

How  can  a  parent  ever  part! 


POEMS. 

Whene'er  they  cluster  round  my 'knee, 
-In  angel  innocence,  I  see 

The  charms  of  nature,  not  of  art; 
Oft  as  I  clasp  them  to  ray  soul, 
In  spite  of  man  the  tears  will  roil, 

To  think— 0  must  we  ever  part  i 

And  when  around  the  board  we  meet 
-  Long  absent  frieijds,  in  converse  sweet, 

We  feel  a  secret  thrilling  smart, 
That  soon  will  come  that  painful  hour, 
{For  Time  the  space  will  quick  devout,) 

The  sad  adieu,  when  we  must  part ! 

]  Xerxes,  that  great  victorious  chief, 
Wept  with  unconquerable  grief, 

(Ambition  gave  his  tears  the  start) 
To  think  his  countless  legions  must, 
In  one  short  century  fall  to  dust, 

And  he  with  all  his  honors  pan  / 

But  holier  sympathies  unite 
Congenial  souls  in  pure  delight, 

Who  steer  by  love's  heaven-guided  chart 
And  though  affliction's  tempests  rise, 
Their  winds  shall  waft  us  to  the  skies, 

niiere/riend  with  friend  shall  weuer  PART, 


34  POEMS. 

From  the  Plough  Soy. 
HOMESPUN  POETRY. 

"We  have  a  friend  who  possesses  a  poetic  imagi 
nation,  though  not  a  classical  scholar,  and  is  apt 
DOW  and  then  to  indulge  it,  especially  when  sub 
jects  present  themselves  congenial  with  the  cur 
rent  of  his  sentiments,  which  are  those  of  a  Chris 
tian  Philosopher,  and  a  true  American  Plough  Boy. 

We  suspect  this  friend  of  purs  has  been  recently 
engaged  in  paying  his  devoirs  at  the  shrine  of  the 
muses  ;  and  that  the  following  poem  is  the  fruit  of 
his  harmonious  intercourse  with  the  tuneful  nine. 
This  little  poem  has  been  several  weeks  in  our  pos 
session  ;  but  the  reader  will  agree  with  us  that  we 
could  not  have  delayed  its  publication  on  account 
of  its  want  of  merit;  for  we  hazard  nothing  in  as 
serting  that  the  critic,  however  fastidious,  will  find 
much  to  admire,  and  little,  to  censure,  in  this  genu 
ine  native  effusion. 

The  eighth  line  is  perhaps  the  most,  if  not  the 
only  objectionable  one  in  the  poem. 

"  Suli  in  his  fi<f,  and  head-reins  in  hU  hands.'' 

The  defect  in  this  line  is  too  obvious  to  need  illus 
tration,  and  we  are  satisfied  could  have  escaped 
the  author's  notice  only  in  the  haste  of  composition. 
13ut  the  picture,  in  which  this  faulty  line  occurs,  of 
the  Plough  Boy,  rising  with  the  dawn,  and  "  brush 
ing  with  hasty  steps  the  dews  away,"  in  search  of 
his  team,  luring  the  animals  to  his  grasp,  and  final 
ly  setting  them  at  work,  is  happily  and  naturally 
Hit  off;  and  the  little  episode,  found  in  the  compa 
rison  between  the  arts  of  the  Plough  Boy,  on  this 
occasion,  and  those  of  the  political  demagogue,  on 
a  different  one,  is  not  the  worst  part  of  this  anima 
ted  description. 


POEMS.  3; 

•ch  for  the  fact— but  are  inclined 
.••t  \YiLLi\M  HAY,  Esq.  of  Onaiiib^n, 
is  the  author  of  this  lie  has   written  u  = 

pi  ec os  •->:'  merit,  of  more  t'hau  ordinary  merit  :  and 
were  it  not  that  our  countrymen  are  so  much  dis 
posed  to  2,0  abroad  for  almost  every  acquisition, 
from  literature  down  to  lustring,  and  from  poetry 
down  to  pins  and  padlocks,  we  should  feel  inclined 
t:>  advise  Mr.  RAY  to  arrange,  revise,  and  publish 
his  p.>etical  works.  But  the  homespun  spirit  is  not 
widely  enough  diffused  at  present.  We  are  still 
too  fond  of  looking  to  Europe,  and  particularly  to 
Great  Britain,  to  supply  our  moral  and  intellectu 
al,  as  well  as  material  and  physical  necessities. 

The  teoderand  the  amatory, as  well  as  the  patriot 
ic  strains  of  LADD,  that  son  of  genius  and  heir  of  mis 
fortune,  whose  muse  of  energy  enlivened  the  dark 
est  period  of  our  revolution;  and  the  moral,  pathet 
ic,  religious  and  philosophical  effusions  of  HAY,  an 
other  favorite  of  genius,  but  foot-ball  of  fortune — 
to  say  nothing  of  the  productions  cf  many  interme 
diate,  and  cott- mporary  votaries  of  the  nuises  ; 
these  may  continue  to*s!eep  in  -the  poetical  depart 
ment:;  of  newspapers  and  magazines,  and  even  the 
lively,  pindarie  and  elegant  effusions  which  at 
this  moment  appear  under  the  signature  of  CROAK 
ER  &  Co.  should  they  swell  to  a  voluminous  size, 
after  a  short  lived  popularity,  may  probably  b^  heard 
of  no  more  ;  whilst  every  catch-penny  effort  of 
British  genius,  will  be  hailed,  as  at  present,  in  eve 
ry  circle  that  pretends  to  literary  tas'e,  genius  or 
philosophy,  not  only  as  a  welcome  visitor,  but, an 
indispensable  companion  in  the  solitary  hour  ! — 
How  long;,  Americans,  shall  these  things  be  ! — Ho  v 
:on^-  will  van  sub  nit  to  be  told,  in  the  tauntinjr  lan- 
gua^e  of  British  Reviewers,  that  you  have  neither 


36  POEMS. 

genius,  taste  nor  learning;  that  you  have  had,  in 
deed,  in  the  walks  of  poetry,"  a  Mr  D  wight  ;  ancf 
his  baptismal  name- was  3ftwot/tf/f51  fctid  in  those 
of  philosophy,  you  '•  had  a  Franklin,  imbed,  and 
may  afford  to  live  for  half  a  century  on  his  lame." 
These  malicious  sarcasms  on  the  literary  character 
of  our  country,  are  quoted  from  thela^t  Edinburgh 
JKeview ;  a  work  which  has  been  stamped  by  no  or 
dinary  degree  of  merit,  but  which  from  the  speci 
men  before  us,  we  should  say  is  exhibiting  vnarka 
of  decline.  But  be  this  as  it  may,  whilst  we  neg 
lect  our  own  poets  on  the  supposition  that  they  are 
not  equal  to  th<ose  of  other  climc« ;  and  in  bhorr, 
\vhilst  we  give  the  preference  to  foreign  produc 
tions  of  almost  every  kind  or  description ;  we  must 
expect  to  be  held  up  by  other  nation  as  destitute 
of  genius,  science  and  enterprize.  But  this  is  not 
the  worst  of  the  evil.  If  we  do  not  encourage  our  own 
talents,  we  depress  and  stifle  that  ambition,  which 
leads  (o  the  exercise  of  talent,  which  springs  either 
from  the  desire  of  fame,  or  the  love  of  wealth,  or 
both  ;  and  which  constitutes,  next  to  richness  of 
soil,  and  salubrity  of  climate,  the  most  important 
source  of  national  fame,  and  prosperity. 

If  the  Moral  Plough  Boy  need  any  apology  for 
weaving  this  poem  into  one  of  his  numbers,  it  is  to 
be  found  in  the  license  he  has  given  himself  of  ma« 
king  such  use  as  he  may  think  proper  of  the  labors 
of  his  correspondents  j  besides,  all  poetry,  the  epic 
and  the  amatory,  the  satyrical  and  the  sentimental, 
with  here  and  there  a  licentious  exception,  is  calcu 
lated  to  improve  the  heart,  by  invigorating  its  mo 
ral  energies.  The  poem  before  us,  inculcates  that 
simplicity  of  life  and  of  manners,  and  those  indus 
trious  habits,  which  are  the  surest  foundations  of 
virtue,  morality,  and  human 


POEMS.  &r 

THE  PLOUGH  BOY. 

THE  Plough  Boy,  using  at  the  dawn  of  day, 
His  team  to  muster  speeds  his  cheerful  way  ; 
In  ;ioiiiespuh  fabrics,  coul,  but  cleanly  d  rest- 
Health  in  his  eye,  and  in  his  bcsoci  rest  — 
He  feels  no  dullness,  no  depression  knows; 
Alert  from  labor,  vig'rous  from  repose. 
Buunds  o'er  the  wall,  or  on  its  suunnit  stands, 
Salt  in  his  dish,  and  heau-reins  in  his  hands; 
Thence  from  his  lips  the  wliisihii^  summons  rings'., 
Or  verbal  'jack,  jack,'  prompt  obedience  brings  ; 
Each  list'ning  steed  the  well  known  accent  hears, 
Lifts  Ins  long  head  and  points  his  spiral  ears  ; 
Lurd  bv  the  signals  of  the  wily  swain, 
Responsive  neighs,  and  stamps  across  the  plain, 
Licks  the  tough  hand,  so  friendly  seen  to  wave, 
Tuat  feeds  to  ensnare,  caresses  to  enslave. 

(Thus  many  a  demagogue,  election  day, 
The  pop'lace  wheedles,  only  to  betray, 
And  many  a  wight,  unconscious  of  the  guile, 
His  independence  barters  for  a  smile.) 


g  by  those  pests  that  suck  their  vital  gore, 
The  frisking  vassals,  harness'tl  up  before, 
And  tackled  to  the  plough-beam,  onward  go, 
Fierce,  but  submissive,  resolute  but  slow, 
'Whene'er  tn<   rocky  soi>  impedes  the  share, 
Or  roots  and  stumps  might  tempt  a  saint  to  swear: 
D  2 


38  POEMS. 

But  when  the  furrowing  mould  no  barrier  owns, 
IS*  brush  to  tangle,  and  no  batterih';  stones, 
Smooth  glides  the  well  directed  keel  along, 
And  the  hills  echo  with  the  Plough  Boy's  song. 

I-ow  is  that  mind  which  pride  hath  taught  to  scorn 
"What  GOD  bequealh'd  and  destin'd  to  adorn 
The  works  of  Nature,  and  to  feed  the  flame 
That  warms  and  animates  our  mystic  frame  ; 
The  now'r,  the  foivsi^ht,  and  the  skill  to  ply, 
And  make  a  clod  prolific  of  the  sky  ; 
For  GOD  hath  promis'd,  and  to  LABOR  given, 
The  clews,  the  sunshine,  and  the  rains  of  heaven. 
Seed  lime  and  harvest,  plenty  and  employ, 
Peace  undisturbed,  and  undiuiini&h'd  joy. 
Mean  is  that  spirit,  slavish  is  the  soul, 
To  mail's  true  glory  sightless  as  the  mole, 
Which  treats  the  hardy  peasant  of  the  plain, 
"With  sneering  arrogance  and  chill  disdain  ; 
From  whose  brown  hand  he  draws  his  daily  breau^, 
Aud  from  whose  industry  a  world  is  fed. 
Shall  dusty  toil  and  tillage  raise  disgust 
3n  man,  whose  end  and  origin  is  dust? 
Could  our  maternal  Earth  assume  a  tongue, 
Where  all  must  lie,  and    whence   the    proudest 

sprung, 

JIow  would  she  chide  th*  effeminate,  who  dare 
Insult  her  dignity,  and  strip  her  bare 
Of  aii  tjiose  hoii'jrs  which  the  wise  aud  gocd; 


POEMS.  & 

Have  heapM  upon  her,  since  creation  stood! 

Bards,  heroes,  sages,  in  those  days  of  old, 

When  streams  were  silver,  rocks  and  mountains 

gold, 

Whan  evTy  grove  a  deity  possessed, 
And  all  was  peace  and  plenty,  joy  and  rest— 
Hevv'd   down  those  groves,  nor  deemM  the  spot 

profaa'd, 
But  ploughM  and  planted  where  their  £ods  had 

reign'd. 

Great  CIXCINXATUS  !  statesman,  warrior  brave, 
"Who  didst  thy  country  serve — thy  country  save  i 
Where  shines  the  purest  lustre  of  thy  fame? 
What  gives  to  immortality  thy  name? 
Is  it.  thy  victories  that  thy  readers  charm— 
Thy  slaughtering  sword,  and  thy  puissant  arm, 
That   crush'd   her   foes,  and   quelrd    tumultuous 

Rome  ? 

Or  thy  calm  virtues,  and  thy  rural  home, 
Stord  with  the  products  of  t  >e  bounteous  soil, 
The  well-earn'd  trophies  of  agrarian  toil  ? 
The  fadeless  laurels  that  adorn'd  thy  brow, 
Grew  from  the  culture  of  the  laboring  plough, 
He-id  by  that  hand  which  armies  taught  to  yield, 
Again  triumphant  in  a  brighter  fk'iu. 
W:iere  genius,  greatness,  in  seclusion,  bhcne 
Auuve  the  Uudry  tenant  ci  a,  tlurone* 


tt  POEMS. 

And  greater  still  than  all  the  chiefs  of  yore, 
"Whose  name  idolatry  tui^ht  well  adore — 
Immortal  WASHINGTON  made  forests  bow, 
And  learn'd  through  life  to  *•  Venerate  the  Plough*'* 

Sons  of  •America  .'  awake,  arise  ! 
to,  bright  before  you  what  a  prospect  lies  I 
A  wide  extended  country,  blest  and  free; 
Majestic  rivers,  many  an  inland  sea ; 
Waiting  the  spade  and  plough,  to  bid  them  pour 
Through  vales   that  never   saw  nor  iieard  them 

roar — 

Lands  rich,  productive,  facile  to  obtain. 
Pledge  to  reward  your  industry  with  gain  ; 
To  waft  your  surpiuss  luxuries,  where  sold, 
And  fill  your  purses  with  exotic  gold  ! 
Leave,  leave  your  legal  trafic — gew-gaw  stores— 
Your  "  dandy"   fripp'ries- kick  them    out   of 

doors — 

Change,  for  a  frock,  that  most  tremendous  cloak ; 
"Wield  the  keen  axe,  and  fell  the  lofty  oak  -, 
Your  best  devoirs  to  AGRICULTURE  pay. 

thus  to  future  glory  PLOUGH  your  way. 


FOEM&  4* 

THE  MENDICANT, 
POOR,  dejected  and  forlorn, 
Visage  bloated,  raiment  torn* 
Son  of  misVy !  child  of  wo ! 
Wildly  wandVmg  to  and  fro 5 
Whatso'er  the  cause  that  led 
To  thy  present  want  of  bread, 
Turn,  forsaken  wretch !  and  see, 
Here  is  one  who  pities  thee ! 

Heir-apparent  once  of  bliss, 
"What  a  'feritage  is  thia ! 
How  hast  thou  thy  title  lost; 
What  a  heavy  bill  of  cost ! 
Bring,  0  bring  thy  suit  again, 
Biead  where  none  e'er  plead  in  vain ! 
Send  to  HEAVEN  thy  special  pica; 
There  is  ONE  who  pities  thee. 

Hast  thou  murdered  precious  time? 
Red  as  scarlet  is  the  crime ! 
Hast  thou  courted  pleasure's  smilei, 
Guilt's  applause,  ami  flatt'ry'a  \vilca T  ' 
Barter'd  in  thy  youthful  days, 
Honor  for  illicit  praise  ? 
Virtue's  paradise  resign'd, 
Best  oi"  body,  peace  of  mind, 
'Midst  the  thorns  of  vice  to  stroll,  - 
£' or  a  dreary  waste  of  soul? 


POEMS. 

Far  from  happiness  away, 
Lost  to  all  but  beasts  of  prry  1 
O  return,  from  wantl'ring  cease, 
"  Virtue's  paths  arc  paths  of  peace/' 
Though  thy  crimes,  in  number,  vie 
With  the  stars  in  yonder  sky; 
Though  thy  sins  are  counted  more 
Thau  the  sands  upon  the  shore  ; 
Bend  to  Hcav'n  the  suppliant  knee, 
There  is  One  who  pities  thee. 
Cease  to  censure,  cease  to  chide, 
Pimps  of  pleasure !  slaves  of  pride  ! 
Heav'n  misfortune  oft  may  send, 
For  a  wise  and  gracious  end  ; 
Wrest  from  us  our  earthly  joys, 
Puerile  riches,  painted  toys — 
Like  a  parent  snatch  away, 
Lest  we  strangle  while  we  play; 
Neither  let  your  lips  accuse, 
Neither  let  your  hands  refusea 
When  a  fellow  worm  you  see, 
Asking* bread,  0  man,  of  thee. 
Is  he  guilty — so  art  thou, 
Is  he  needy — give  him,  nowa 
Trusting  to  a  future  day, 
For  thy  recoin pence  of  pay. 
Come,  then  child  of  sorrow,  come! 
Seek  my  pity,  share  my  home  I 


POEMS. 

Though  as  LazVus  mean  and  poor, 
I  will  never  bolt  my  door, 
But  will  bid  thee  welcome  in, 
Poverty  is  not  a  sin  ; 
Though  my  crumbs  but  thinly  fall, 
Thou  shalt  freely  have  them  all ; 
What  thou  art,  is  nought  to  me, 
Here  is  one  who  pities  thee. 

"  'Twas  misfortune's  heavy  blow 
"  Brought  me,  as  you  see  me,  low; 
*'  My  full  cup  of  pleasure  spilt, 
"  Mingled  with  the  dregs  of  guilt, 
"  Is  there  one  who  can  forgive  r" 
Yes,  return,  repent  and  live  ; 
Heav'n  has  blessings  full  and  free5 
There  is  One  who  pities  thee  ; 
Only  in  his  word  believe, 
Ask,  and  lo  !  thou  shalt  receive ! 
Seek,  and  thou  shalt  truly  find 
Heav'n  on  earth— the  rest  of  mind  ; 
Knock,  and  open'd  is  the  door, 
.Enter  thou,  but— DRINK  no  more. 


44  POEMS. 

MEMENTO. 

Just  on  the  brow  of  Ononclaga  Hill,  close  by  the 
great  western  turnpike,  at  the  skirt  of  a  wood,  is 
a  grave,  rendered  more  gloomy  and  solemn  by  a 
*leep  gulph  below  ;  which  has  a  tombstone  with, 
the  following  inscription — «  In  memory  of  Cap- 
fain  BENJAMIN  BRANCH,  of  the  1st  Regt.  U.S. 
Light  Artillery,  a  native  of  Virginia;  who  died 
in  the  27th  year  of  his  age,  Oct.  10,  i814,  on  his 
March  to  the  Frontier." 

TRAVELLER  pause — a  moment  stay^— 
Nature's  impulse  soft  obey; 
Ere  you  from  the  spot  depart, 
Read  this  tombstone — read  your  heart; 
•  Learn  the  lesson  each  can  give— 
Death  is  sure  to  all  that  live  ; 
Death  is  giv'n,  to  save  from  de^th, 
What  is  dearer  far  than  breath : 
Save  the  soul  from  earthly  fears, 
Days  of  grief  and  nights  of  tears, 
^From  the  grave's  dark  prison  chains—* 
From  eternal  hopeless  pains ! 
What  a  blessing  !  what  a  prize! 
?Tis  the  day -break  of  the  skies.' 
Transformation  how  sublime., 
To  eternity  from  time ! 
Not  t'  astonish'd  angeis  giv'n, 
O !  phenomenon  of  heav'n ! 
But  the  blessing,  though  so  dear, 
Mortals  shun,  for  mortals  fear— 


POEMS. 

T)read  to  pass  that  awful  gate, 
Open'd  by  the  key  of  fate  ; 
Blackness,  darkness,  all  within, 
What  a  thunder- cloud  is  sin  ! 
Whence  tremendous  threatrnings  roll ! 
Flash  upon  the  dying  soul ! 
Till  the  beams  of  mercy  shine, 
Then,  O  sun  !  O  sun  divine ! 
Darkness  thoushait  chace  away — 
All  is  morning — cloudless  day. 
Here  a  youth  unheeded  lies, 
Ouce  the  joy  of  parents'  eyes  ; 
Here  a  heart  now  lifeless,  coid, 
Once  so  feeling,  once  so  bold ; 
Ardent,  hopeful,  courting  fame, 
Burning  with  the  patriot's  flame  ; 
Lo!  extinguished  all  its  fires, 
Lo!  the  Jji'anch  of  hope  expires! 
"Withers  in  a  foreign  grave, 
Such  the  laurels  of  the  brave ! 
Was  there  when  he  died  of  late, 
/»•  there  none  to  mour.i  his  fatj? 
NJ  fond  brother's  tender  sou!, 
While  the  tears  of  anguish  roll — » 
'No  kind  sister's  rahiin-  eyrs, 
Looking  to  the  northern  allies— 


46  -POEMS. 

No  deep-wounded  parents'  breast. 
Darting,  robbing  a  request — 

*  Tel!  me,  must  our  hopes  be  o'er? 
'  Tell  me,  does  he  live  no  more  ? 
••  Where  is  then  his  body  laid  ? 

*  Had  k  decent  honors  paid  ? 

4  When  he  saw  the  summons  come,, 
'  Did  he  think  on  us  and  home  ? 
'  In  his  illness  did  he  find 
•*  Strangers  pitiful  and  kind  ? 

*  Did  the  cause  he  serv'd  obtain 

•  Mitigation  of  his  pain  ? 

'  Will  his  grateful  country  show 
•Due  respect  for  all  our  woe  ? 

•  Bind  our  broken  hearts  and  cheer 

•  Our  sad  spirits  with  a  tear  ?"' 
Yes,  his  grateful  country  knows 
All  his  ivorth,  and  all  your 


EXECUTION 

:.IC«.\RD  SMITH,  in  Philadelphia,  for  the  iv.ur 
uVr  oi'Cupt   JOHN  CARSON  -  AagttSt  10,  ISJ 

<  Tho."  Justice  be  ihj  plea> 
Consider  this:  —  that  in  the  course  ofjttsttce, 
None  of  us  should  see  salvation. 

We  do  pray  for  m.??*e./» 
And  that  same  prav'r  doth  tesch  us  all 
To  render  the  deeds  of  mercy. 


L 

THE  dreadful  tragedy  is 

The  fatal  die  is  cast  ! 
Pardon  to  guilt  has  barr'd  the  door, 

And  Mercy  stands  aghast  ! 

II, 
Mercy  —  the  child  of  heav'nly  love 

Whence  oceans  freely  flo<v, 
Blest  theme  of  seraph-tongues  above, 

And  angel  tongues  below 

III. 
Mercy  —  the  oifty  hope  of  man, 

The  rainbow  of  his  fears; 
That  smiles  away,  since  floods  began, 

The  dnluge  of  his  tears  - 

IV 
Mercy  —  ihou  soul  reviving  pow'r! 

When  SMITH  implor'd  thy  grace, 


48  POEMS. 

In  that  tremendous  awful  hour, 
Why  turn  away  thy  face  ? 

V, 
Has  Justice  so  vindictive  grown, 

That  Mercy  cannot  spare  ? 
Can  naught  but  blood  for  blood  atone  r 
Can  death,  with  death,  repair  r 

VI. 
Mix  thinks  T  hear  that  cherub  voice, 

Responding  to  my  lay— 
•  Pity  and  pardon  were  my  choice, 
But  vengeance  filPd  the  way. 

VII. 
Foul  was  the  crime— of  deepest  die— 

Abhorrd  by  all  that  live; 
Still  my  prerogative  and  cry, 
Is  always  to  'forgive.' 

VIII. 
If  deep  coniritton  mark  the  soul, 

No  matter  what  the  crime, 
Tho'  laro-e  as  space  from  pole  to  pole, 
And  multiplied  as  time— 

IX. 
My  arms  the  penitent  embrace. 

But  cannot  always  save, 
Unless  when  justice  lakes  my  place, 
I  step  beyond  the  grave  ; 


POEMS, 

X 

still  rc.y  sympathies  infold., 
T.'iere  Justice  "laims  no  more  ; 
There  bliss  unceasing,  joys  untold, 
Around  the  victim  pour: 

XI. 
For  there  an  ADVOCATE  is  found, 

Who  once  himself  was  slain  ; 
The  flood  that  issued  from  his  wound, 
Can  wash  away  the  stain. 

XII. 
He  knows  what  human  passions  are— 

Iti  love  how  fierce  they  rage — 
Pities  the  orphan's  lost  despair— 
His  tenderness  of  age : 

O 

XIII 

And  tho'  the  horrid  act  he  hates, 

Forgiveness  can  bestow, 
A  ul  bid  heav'n?s  everlasting  gates 

Call  home  repentant  woe.' 


Oil  the  MASSACRE  of  the  AMERICAN  PRISONERS,  at 

Dartmoor  Prisun,  England,  1816. 
HOW  burns  the  biood  within  our  veins, 

To  hear  the  tragic  tale ; 
The  crime  which  Dartmoor  Prison  stains, 
Would  turn  a  demon  pale  ! 
E    2 


50  POEMS. 

Infuriate  see  your  passions  rise, 
While  you  recite  the  deed  ; 

And  vengeance  flashes  from  your  eyeq, 
At  evYy  word  you  read. 

?Tis  manly,  patriotic,  just, 
And  cherish  well  the  flame, 

Till  mingling  with  your  mother  dust, 
Remember  SJwrtland's  name. 

Inscribe  it  on  the  blacken'd  scroll 

Of  infamy  and  guilt; 
And  with  infernal  acts  enrol 

The  deeds — the  blood  he  spilt, 

Cold  hearted  rnurd'rer!  see  him  stand; 

And  hear  him  give  the  word! 
Swift  dart  the  balls,  at  his  command* 

And  thrusts  the  fulgent  sword ! 

Unarnvd  and  helpless,  see  them  fall, 

Americans  are  these  I 
Slain  while  they  yet  for  quarters  call, 

And  murdered  on  their  knees.' 

Detested  coward  !  is  it  thus 
You  conquer  highborn  foes  ? 

The  only  vict'ry  gain'd  o'er  us, 
As  well  your  nation  knows. 


POEMS.  31 

And  Ions:  may  British  valor  boast 

One  trophy  of  the  war; 
Let  Shortland's  triumph  be  your  toast, 

And  spread  your  glory  far. 

But  while  you  revel  with  delight, 

O'er  bloody  scenes  k'ke  these, 
Know  that  a  GOD  beholds  the  sight, 

And  dread  his  just  decrees. 

Know  that  Americans  are  brave, 

"W  hen  vengeance  cries  pursue; 
No  foe  can  meet  them  on  the  wave, 

No  pow'rem  earth  subdue  \ 

If  man  to  man,  and  gun  to  gun, 

And  ship  to  ship  they  close, 
The  battle  instantly  is  won, 

And"owrs"  the  vanquish'd  foes. 

So,  should  another  war  commence, 

T'  avenge  our  country rs  wrongs, 
While  unaton'd  this  foul  offence, 

To  freemen  it  belongs, 

Just  retribution  to  bestow 

Upon  these  savage  slaves*— 
To  let  their  royal  masters  know 

Columbia  "  rules  the  icavesf9 


53  POTSMS. 

FALSE  ESTIMATE  OF  THE  WORL& 
WHEN  titles,  wealth,  and  pow'r  combine 

'1  o  raise  the  man  unjust, 
Fools  almost  worship,  as  divine, 

This  reptile  oi  the  dust. 

To  him  mean  adulation  pays 

The  tribute  of  her  breath  ;  — 
^av  gives  her  very  murderer  praise, 

While  in  the  pangs  of  death. 


around  his  board,  like  flies> 
To  lick  th'  entangling  sweet; 
While  ivant  in  supplication  lies, 
A  worm  beneath  his  feet. 

Talk  of  idolatry  who  will, 

?Tis  ev'ry  where  the  same  ; 
E'en  CHRISTIANS  have  their  idol  still, 

And  MONEY  is  the  name. 

E'en  PRIESTS  obey  its  sovereign  "  call"-* 

The  good  of  souls  at  heart  ; 
And  as  their  wages  rise  or  fall, 

Can  tarry,  or  depart. 

If  lean  the  fiock,  and  short  the  fleece*,. 

Their  duty  calls  —  *  awcnf; 
Not  all  the  eloquence  of  Greece, 

Could  flatter  them  to  stay* 


POEMS.  $3 

The  ma^ic  of  a  single  word, 

Can  give  another  fold, 
These  holy  servants  of  the  Lord— 

A  larger  lump  of  gold. 

The  glitt'ring  of  a  title  shows 

The  man  in  wisdom  big; 
Like  a  bright  ring  within  the  nose 

Of  xvizzard'a  well-JearVd  '  pig.' 

All  stuff— disgusting  empty  trash — 

No  solid  worth  appears 
Attendant  on  the  man  of  CASH— f 

A  jackass— all  but  ears. 

And  yet  the  only  passport.  thiSa 

To  honor,  povv'r  and  fame ; 
The  sum  of  sublunary  bliss, 

Is  man's  eternal  shame. 

"VVrapp'd  in  course  rags,  see  genius  He, 

Extinguish'd  and  forgot ; 
AVhich  blazM  a  meteor  through  the  sky, 

But  perish M  where  it  shot! 

"With  loads  of  poverty  worn  down, 

The  man  of  merit  stands; 
Oft  the  derision  of  a  clowi, 

And  fetterd  by  his  hands, 


JT4  FORMS, 

But  there's  a  retribution  day, 
When  man  shall  have  h;s  right1, 

When  deeds  of  dark  ness  and  dismay. 
Shall  all  be  brought  to  light. 

With  patience  wait  GOD's  own  due  time> 

For  come  it  will,  at  last, 
When  Virtue's  recompencc  sublime, 

Is— HEAVEN — for  HELL  that's  -past. 


e(  Virtue  and  Vice,  Liberty  awl  Oppression,  are  be 
loved  and  detested,  by  the  good  and  bad,  of  all 
countries  and  nations." 

THERE  is  a  tie  in  kindred  souls, 

Which  nothing  can  dissever; 
And  though  as -distant  as  the  poles, 

Attractions  feel  forever ; 
As  the  same  sun  illumes  and  warms, 
So  the  same  spirit  lights  and  channs. 

Conning  the  leaves  of  hisl'ry  o'er, 
How  the  heart  thrills  with  pleasure, 

To  find  the  man,  who  lives  no  more, 
(Our  bosom's  dearest  treasure) 

lave; — ir-ovos — converses  Fare  to  face, 

lake  ghosts  in  some  enchanted  place. 


POEMS. 

•Virtus  is  cv'ry  whjre  alike, 

BelovM  ia  evVy  nation, 
W.iile  Vic?  ne'er  fails  the  mind  to  strike 

With  horrid  detestation  ; 

Thong!;,  with  inisn'jxicr,  various  t'rnes, 
"Vices  are  vii v«  "$ — virtues,  crimes. 

These  two  great  'ending;  chiefs  are  found, 

Sim'lur  in  siz^  and  stature, 
Known,  bwt  unchang'd,  the  world  around 

Invincible  by  nature  ; 
••Eternal  warfare  is  their  <rarne — 

O 

Eternal  vict'ry— man  their  aim. 

One  seeks  'nsobj-ct  to  destroy 

By  captivating  splendor, 
A'ul  calls  up  pmv'rs  in  his  employ, 

Worse  than  the  witch  ol'Eudor  ; 
The  other  uses  ev'ry  art 
To  vanquish — but  to  save  the  heacfc 

Enlisted  on  the  side  of.  Vice, 

Are  slavery  and  oppression ; 
Kings,  with  a  heart  as  cold  as  ice, 

Join  in  the  black  procession  $ 
Their  motto — prisons,  death  and  pains— 
Their  music — gruan*;  their  weapons — chains 

But  Virtue  numbers  in  her  train, 
The  world 's  great  benefactors, 


POEMS. 

Who  always  have  and  will  maintain 

The  name  of  noble  actors — 
Heroes  in  freedom's  glorious  cause 
Of  equal  rights,  and  rightful  laws. 

Grecian  and  Roman,  Eng'ish,  French, 

Philosophers  and  heroes, 
Have  grac'd  the  field,  the  bar,  the  bench, 

(Though  all  have  had  their  Neroes) 
Perish'd  in  liberty's  defence, 
Or  bled  for  injurd  innocence. 

Americans  have  caught  the  flame, 

O  may  it  burn  eternal  ! 
A  &un  to  lig'-t  their  path  of  fame, 

Through  groves  forever  vernal, 
"Where  freedom's  sacred  tempi*'  stands^ 

Built  by  immortal  patr.ots'  nuuds. 

Though  fiends  of  tyranny  essay 

This  't-niple  to  den-ol.s!  ; 
To  drive  its  worshippers  away, 

Its  rivals  abnlis'i ; 
As  Satan  once  like  lightning  fell, 
"J'is  •  ..-'oof  against  the  gates  of  hell. 

-Beli.,ion,  Virtue,  Freedom,  Truth, 

The  sanii-  in  ov'rv  nation; 
Their  heritage — unfading  v(.tith, 
Their  •  residence — creation  5* 


POEMS'.  sr 

And  when  the  last  great  day  shall  come, 
Eternity  their  joyful  home. 


To  my  young  niece,  Miss  SERENE  F — »-—  who  sent 
me  a  watch-piece,  on  which  was  painted  an  ele 
gant  basket  of  fruit,  bestrewed  with  beautiful 
Sowers;  around  it  were  these  lines: — 

"  This  basket  I  fill,  and  present  it  to  you, 
For  whom  my  affection  is  ardent  and  true." 

THE  fruit  which  in  your  basket  came, 

Though  artificial,  dear  ; 
In  taste,  in. fragrance,  and  in  name, 

The  sweetest  of  the  year. 

With  feelings  grateful,  tender,  warm, 

Your  off'ring  was  receiv'd  ; 
Which  to  my  heart  convey'd  a  charm~- 

A  cordial  that  reliev'd 

A  heart  which  oft  hath  bled  to  see, 

And  feel,  what  no  one  knows, 
But  him,  dear  girl,  who  gives  to  tkee, 

A  respite  of  his  woes. 

The  voice  of  friendship  t  what  more  sweet  ? 

The  coldest  blood  it  thrills  i— 
•Winds  round  despairs  forlorn  retreat* 
Beset  with  human  ills— - 

F 


£-8  POE-AiS. 

Wooing  the  wandVer  to  return* 

And  taste  of  bliss  awhile; 
Joy  in  his  breast  begins  to  burn 

It  lightens  in  a  smile! 

"  '  But  ah!  dear  lovely  maid,  beware, 

As  you  advance  in  years; 
False  friendship  .is  a  deadly  snare — 
A  crocodile  in  tears  ! 

For  under  that  suspicious  name, 

And  in  her  garb  is  found, 
Death  to  the  fair  one's  spotless  fame— 

A  more  than  mortal  wound  ! 

And  while  you  paint  these  fruits  and  fiow'rs, 

As  nature  is  pourtray'd, 
Never  forget  those  coming  hours, 

When  all  on  earth  must  fade. 

E'en  that  fair  hand  thy  pencil  guides, 

Must  wither  and  decay ; 
E'en  that  warm  he? rt,  where  heav'n  reside^ 

Must  be  as  cold  as  clay. 

?>Iay  all  your  life  be  like  your  name — 

SERENE,  and  calm,  and  clear; 
And  may  your  death  belike  the same*r~ 

But  far  rcmov'd  the  year, 


POEMS. 

'To  rte.  Jlfizartf  of  Brig.  G-y.i.  ZEBULON  MOXTGO- 

.--:    PIKE, 
York,  U.  QJprtlZT,  1SIO. 

IF  ever  angels,  from  the  blissful  skies, 
Look  down  on  mortals  with  benignant  eyes, 
*  I'is  when  the  brave  repose  in  heav'n  their  tru=t, 
Whose  cause  is  righteous,  and  whose  views  are  just; 
?Tis  on  the  hero,  who,  when  duty  calls, 
O'er  death  triumphant,  nobly  fights  and  falls; 
If  ever  grief  intrudes  on  heav'nly  bliss, 
:Xis  when  such  scenes  occur — a  sight  like  this; 
A  scene  which  caus'd  our  sorrowing  hearts  to  swell, 
"When  Pike  so  recently  in  battle  fell. 

Lov'd  by  ail  ranks,  rcverM  wherever  known, 
His  name  a  terror  to  hi?/«es  alone  : 
In  whom  the  virtues  all  were  seen  to  blend, 
In  war  an  enemy,  in  peace  a  friend  ; 
Offspring  of  honor,  valor's  fav'rite  chile, 
Calm,  but  determined — spirited,  but  mild  ; 
Stern,  though  not  haughty  ;  affable,  tlio'  grave  ; 
Politely  resolute,  humanely  brave  ; 
In  discipline  not  cruelly  severe; 
His  soldiers  lov'd  him  with  a  fiUal  fear; 
Prompt  to  their  needs  of  what  to  each  belong?, 
Just  to  their  rights — attentive  to  their  wrongs: 
He  knew  the  spirit  of  the  man  to  save — 
Td  land  the  soldier,  not  to  drive  the  sl 


60  POEMS. 

T'  infuse  that  valor,  which  himself  possessed, 
Through  all  his  ranks—in  ev'ry  private's  breast. 

In  early  youth  his  country's  arms  he  bore, 
"When  the  drear  western  wilds  he  traversed  o'er  5 
In  early  youth  he  caught  the  patriot's  fiame, 
And  planted  laurels  in  the  field  of  farae  ; 
The  growth  luxuriant,  subsequently  spread, 
And  tvvin'd,  as  if  by  instinct,  round  his  head; 
Though  now  in  death  the  warrior's  corse  lies  low, 
On  his  moist  grave  perpetual  wreaths  shall  grow  > 
Year  after  year  reflourish  and  be  seen 
To  wear  a  livelier  hue,  a  brighter  green. 


INDEPENDENCE. 
AN  ODE— -1816. 

I 

TWICE  twenty  years  have  roll'd  aw.iy... 
Since  on  this  memorable  day, 

Was  INDEPENDENCE  born  5- 
The  child  of  heav'n — of  earth  the  joy, 
Whom  no  base  Herod  could  destroy, 
Though  feeble  and  forlorn. 

II. 
Its  strength  hath  increased  with  its  years,  till  behold, 

A  giant-Collossus  it  stands; 
A  st  itiK*  like  those  which  were  worshipp'd  of  old; 
When  gods  were  thfc.  v/ork  of  men's  hands ; 


POEMS;  or- 

A statue,  though  spirit  and  life  it  con  tains — 

Breathes,  speaks  in  a  language  well 
"  From  all  other  nations,  to  you  it  belongs 
To  cherish  my  blessings — alone  :'? 

III. 
"  To  you,  Americans,  I  give 

Man's  equal  rights  to  share  ; 
And  be  those  rights,  or  die,  or  live, 
Your  ever  constant  care»J' 

IV. 
Our  heroes  lamented, 

Rave  purchased  the  prize, 
Their  blood  hath  cemented, 
Their  genius  invented — 
With  offerings  sweet  scented, 
The  fane  where  it  lies.. 

V. 
lighted  by  a  flame  of  glory, 

Is  the  temple — on  its  walls 
Sculptured  are  those  deeds  in  story, 
Which  renown  immortal  calls. 

YI. 

And  when  Britania  lately  sought,  again 
To  bind  cur  nation,  with  a  tenfold  chain— 
With  all  the  pow'rs  of  Europe  on  her  side, 
Teher  indebted,  and  with  her  allied — 
While  native  savages— internal  foes, 
With  murder,  treason,  and  rebellion  rose — 
*    2 


ti£  POEMS. 

Thy  name,  O  INDEPENDENCE!  like  a  charm, 
Call'd  from  black  heav'ns  the  meteor  of  alarm, 
Which  shot  like  lightning, thro' each  dauntless  soul! 
And  broke,  like  thunder,  with  tremendous  roll  I 
The  bolts  of  vengeance  on  our  foes  were  hurl'd, 
And  peace,  and  Independence,  bless'd  the  world! 

VII. 

Such  is  the  magic  of  thy  name, 
And  such  the  wonders  of  thy  fame; 
Long  may  thy  ofl'spring  calmly  rest 
Securely  on  Columbia's  breast; 
That  breast  which  glows  with  noble  pride, 
To  r.o  legitimates  allied, 
Save  GOD  and  nature- — these  it  owns, 
Above  all  potentates  and  thrones; 
From  these  the  people,  lev'ry  hour, 
Derive  and  exercise  their  pow'r ; 
To  these  amenable  for  all — 
Masters  to  whom  they  stand  or  fall. 
"With  such  immortal  povv'rs  allied, 
With  GOD  and  Nature  on  our  side, 
The  glorious  ./Era  let  us  hail, 
"Which  gave  to  man,  so  weak,  so  frail, 
A  boon  so  precious  from  the  sky, 
As  Independence— FOURTH  JULY. 

VIII, 

May  all  other  nations,  in  time,  too,  rejoice 
To  have,  for  their  rulers,  the  men  of  their  choice — 


POEMS.  63 


The  king  of  all  kings,  but  no  other  obfj, 
And  blest  Independence  the  Universe  sway, 


FAITH. 

FAITH  is  the  substance  of  our  hopes, 

Unseen  by  mortal  eyes ; 
FAITH  is  the  key  of  pray  V,  that  opes 

The  treasures  of  the  skies. 

FAITH  is  the  dawn  of  heav'nly  light, 
That  cheers  the  doubting  soul, 

And  drives  away  those  clouds  of  night 
That  round  her  vision  roll. 

FAITH  is  the  rising  of  the  morn — 

The  sun's  full -beaming  rays, 
"When  the  blest  convert,  newly  born, 

Pours  forth  his  heart  in  praise. 

FAITH  is  the  word  of  wisdom's  choice, 
Which  bids  all  murmVings  cease ; 

A  holy,  heavenly  still  small  voice, 
That  whispers  love  and  peace, 

FAITH  is  that  power  which  Death  disarms- 

That  takes  away  his  sting — 
Quells  the  pale  tyrant's  dread  alarms, 

And  slays  the  terror-king. 


64-  *  POEMS. 

FAITH  heaves  the  mountain*  from  its  base; 

And  hurls  it  in  the  sea ; 
FAITH  is  the  heaven  of  God's  free  grace, 

Prepar'd,  O  man,  for  thee* 


Rejoice  rvith  them  that  do  rejoice,  and  weep  raith 
them  that  weep — ROM.  12,  15. 

WHEN  holy  fervor  thrills  the  soul, 

And  sympathy  divine, 
Bids  tears  of  joy  profusely  roll, 

Around  devotion's  shrine 

\Vhen  deep  repentance  melts  the  heart. 

And  gushing  sorrows  flow, 
To  quench  conviction's  fiery  dart, 

Which  gave  the  wounding  blow ; 

When  joy  supernal  soars  aloft, 

On  faith's  unspotted  wing, 
And  breathing  raptures  pure  and  soft,, 

la  songs  that  angels  sing; 

Or  when  adversity  appears 

With  all  ht-r  frightful  train- 
Death  and  disease,  and  groans  aid  tears. 

And  poverty,  sod  pain  ; 

*   SiB, 


POEMS.  C3 


Jaear,  hear  this  sweet  angelic  voice, 
And  lull  those  fears  to  sleep  — 

*'  Rejoice  with  them  that  do  rejoice, 
And  weep  with  them  that 


And  when  to  Heaven's  all  glorious  day 
The  pure  in  heart  fhall  rise,, 

Arid  ev'ry  tear  is  wip'd  away 
From  ev'ry  mortal's  eyes  ; 

Eternal  happiness  to  reap, 
Wtfl  be  your  only  choice  ; 

Fw  I  hen,  O  there  you  cannot  weep, 
But  evermore  rejoice. 


THE  NEWS-BOY'S 

^tw -Tear's  .Address  to  liis  Patrons,  1817* 
A  NO  '  HER  year  has  roll'd  away— 
Another  '•  happy  New-Year's"  day 
Has  come,  like  me,  with  smiling  fr.ce, 
Full  of  hilarity  and  grace, 
BotS  asking,  as  the  ca<e  demands, 
A  tribute  from  your  hearts  ami  hahds. 

Long  have  I  toil'd  your  thoughts  t'  amuse 
"\\  \t\i  pleasing  ;.nd  unpl&tsiitg  news — 
By  turns  have  brought  you  from  afar, 
The  tidings  of  both  peace  and 


Deaths,  suicides  and  horrid  crimes, 
Which  stain  the  annals  of  our  times. 
Commingled  in  the  very  page 
Yv  here  Virtue  joy  of  evVy  age, 
And  pure  Religion,  undefil'd, 
Calm,  holy,  dignified,  and  mild, 
Are  seen  to  flourish,  triumph,  spread— 
Around  the  living— /rom  the  dead. 

Oft  have  I  brought,  your  eyes  to  bless, 
This  paper,  reeking  from  the  press. 
Teeming  with  wonder-raising  things, 
Done  by  great  potentates  and  kings — 
Their  proclamations  and  decrees — 
The  words,  fools  think,  of  deities— 
Their  prostitution — marriage  tics, 
Between  legitimate  allies ; 
Where  a  few  drops  of  royal  blood,  - 
United  .form  a  mighty  flood, 
Sweeping  before  it,  as  it  flows, 
The  rights  and  liberties  of  those 
Unlucky  mortals,  held  in  scorn, 
Who  happen  to  be  "  basely  born" 
As  if  the  God  of  nature  made 
His  ima«;e  for  the  sake  of  trade — 

O 

On  purpose  to  be  bought  and  sold — 
Barter'd  for  crowns— -enslav'd  for  gold  I 

Here,  too,  you  frequently  have  found, 
And  tasted  fruit  from  classic  ground-*—' 


-TuEMS. 

"lVith  CAMPBELL  scal'd  Parnassus  mount, 
Or  drank  the  Heliconian  fount — 
With  Byron,  and  with  Walter  Scott, 
(What  reader  would  not  turn  a-sotr) 
Have  snatch'd  a  mental  sweet  repast — 
Short,  for  too  exquisite  to  last — 
Returning  to  our  native  plains, 
Heard  QSBORN'S  sweetly  flowing  strains — 
But  PHILLIPS — vv'iy  forget  his  name, 
Whose  genius  breaks  in  sheets  of  flame, 
Like  lightning — darts  from  east  to  west, 
Melts  all  the  heart— but  leares  it  blest- 
Leads  up  the  soul  where  virtue  reigns, 
And  leaves  it  happy- —though  in  chains. 
With  scraps  alternately  from  these, 
We,  p: inters,  strive!'  instruct  and  please; 
And  must  our  labors  all  be  lost? 
Nipp'd  by  a  hard  untimely  frost  ? 
"  No"— genYous  patrons !— "  no"— you  cry. 
And  no,  our  grateful  hearts  reply. 

Here,  aJso:  ev'ry  reader  learns 
Our  state  and  national  concerns ; 
How  legislators  -  reader  pause — 
Have  loaded  us  with  Salary  laws — 
The  greatest  gluttons  of  the  day, 
Have  revell'd  on  the  soidiiv's  pay, 
Tillgorg'd  and  surfeited  witu  wine,' 
,  Their  seats  of  honor  they  resign  ; 


68  -POEMS. 

But  justify  the  measure  still, 
Though  known  to  thwart  the  people's  will. 
O  shame  !  where  is  tl-y  blushing  face, 
Hid  in  a  cloud  of  black  disgrace  ! 
-O  liberty!  where  is  thy  flight — 
Gone  with  the  phantoms  of  the  night! 
They  vainly  think  the  wound  to  heal 
By  application  of  Repeal — 
'Twill  leave  a  smart,  severer  far — 
Leave  its  remembrance,  in  a  scar. 
Yet,  thanks  to  Heav'n,  there's  some  remain. 
Whose  garments  ne'er  have  known  a  stain^ 
Just  as  Jlristides,  and  true 
As  fam'd  Las  Cossas  of  Peru ; 
Though  here  to  name  them  would  prolong 
The  stated  limits  of  my  song ; 
To  them  we  look,  to  them  we  pray, 
"  /Save — save  our  country — while  you  may.™ 

Now  as  the  year  has  just  begun 
Again  its  ann'al  race  to  run  ; 
As  Time's  rapidity  of  flight J 
Equall'd  alone  by  that  of  light, 
Fast  leads  us  on  from  stage  to  stage— 
From  youth  to  manhood — up  to  age — 
As  thus  we  journey  on  the  way, 
Remember  all  have  FARE  to  'pay — - 
That  ev'ry  mortal  wants  his  due 
(ThePriwfer  and  the  Post-Boy  too) 


POEMS. 

That  when  we,.:eai:i  the  common  goal. 
And  heav'n  is  opening  on  the  soul, 
For  fear  its  golden  gates  may  close, 
And  dark  interminable  woes 
Should  be  our  hopeless — awful  fate ; 
Hence  let  our  reformation  date, 
Begin  the  year — our  lives  anew, 
Keeping  eternity  in  view, 
That  when  death  comes,  terrific  King, 
"  Appear  before  tky  GOD,"  to  bring, 
We  may  with  joyful  ness  obey 
The  ready  mandate,  while  Tins  DAT., 
Sweet  to  the  memory  hope  inspirjn, 
That  quenches  everlasting  fires  ; 
A  cordial  proves  your  souls  to  -cheer, 
A  glorious  t/fli/^an  endless  year. 


A  VOYAGE. 

INVOCATION  TO  NEPTUSB. 

'Written  on  board  the  Frigate  Philadelphia,  1803, 
NEPTUNE,  attend,  god  of  the  vast  profound  ! 
Whose  will  controls  it,  and  whose  powVs  surround  I 
When  lightnings  flash,  tremendous  thunders  roar, 
And  liquid  mountains  tumble  to  the  shore, 
Thy  awful  mandate,  sounding  from  afar, 
Cat  hash  the  die  of  elemental  war ; 

a 


7=0  POEMS. 

The  restless  billows  lull  to  slumb'ring  peace, 

And  bid  the  whirlwind  and  the  tempest  cease! 

O  make,  in  answer  to  our  fervent  pray'r, 

The  Philadelphia  thy  peculiar  care. 

To  winds  propitious  all  our  sails  unfurlM, 

Bearing  the  ensign  or  a  glorious  world ; 

Should  in  our  cruise  some  hostile  Hag  be  seen, 

The  Moor,  Tripoli  tan,  or  Algerine — 

Should  biood'Stain'd  Mars  his  hideous  front  display, 

And  menace  carnage  to  obstruct  our  way — 

As  stern  Ulysses,  as  Achilles  bold, 

Or  warlike  Hecior,  in  the  days  of  old, 

The  martial  lookup  Bainbridge  shall  inspire 

The  dauntless  ardor  of  heroic  fire  ; 

His  sword  shall  triumph  in  the  vengeful  blow, 

And  deal  destruction  to  the  recreant  foe. 

So  taught  the  muse  prophetic — but  the  song 

Prov'd  in  the  sequel,  the  prediction  wrong. 


.EXERCISING  SHIP. 

Written  at  Sea~~U.&.  Frigate  Philadelphia.  180S. 
NOW  for  the  rock  our  warlike  frigate  bore, 
Nor  storms  were  felt  to  beat,  nor  he*rd  to  roar — 
"  Clear  ship   for  action  !"  sounds  the  boatswain's 

call— 
"  Clear  ship  for  action  !"  his  three  mimicks  bawJ ; 


POEMS. 

Swift  round  the  deck*,  see  wars  dread  weapons 

hun'd, 

And  floating  ruins  strew  the  wat*ry  world ! 
"  All  hands  to  quarters!"  fore  and  aft  resound.-; , 
Thrills    iro:n  the   fife,  aud   from    the   drum -head 

bounds; 

From  crowded  hatchways  scores  on  scores  arise, 
Spring  up  the  shrouds  and  vault  into  the  skies  I 
Firm  at  Uis  quarters  each  bald  gunner  stand.'?, 
.Toe  death -fraught  lightning  Hashing  from  his  hands ! 
Touch'd  at  the 'word,  tremendous  cannons  roar, 
The  waves  rush,  trembling,  to  the  viewless  shore!' 
Fro  n  crackling  muskets  whizzing  balls  are  sent, 
A  5  I,  darting,  pierce  the  liquid  element! 
Th'i  fearful  nations  of  the  deep  below, 
F; y  the  dire  signals  of  impending  \\roe  ; 
Air"s  wild  inhabitants  in  clouds  convene, 
And  wing  impetuous  from  the  frightful  scene  ; 
Men  seek  the  spoils  of  the  eventful  fight, 
Lo  i  not  an  enetnv  nor  a  sal!  in  sight ! 

•J  O 

What  then?  must  poets  ne'er  record  a  deed, 

Nor  sing  of  battles,  but  when  thousands  bleed  ? 

Can  naught  but  blood  and  carnage  yield  delight  ? 

Or  mingled* carcases  regale  the  si^ht  ? 

W  itc  i  shews  more  jjod-liki1,  men  to  save— or  kill'? 

Th^ir  sivcat,  by  exercise,  or  blood  to  spill  ? 

Wl  ich  -  MI  U  .nore  grateful  to  the  man  humane, 

Tt>  hear  of  hundreds'  health,  or  hundretU  slain-?  • 


7£  POEMS. 

No  blood  here  iTbws,  no  hero's  (tyin 
No  squadrons  vanquish'd,  and  no  broken  boaes. 
But  each  more  eager  to  the  grog-tub  ran, 
Than  when  the  foeless  contest  first  began. 

Still  on  our  course,  the  Western-Isles  we  past, 
And  farn'd  Gibraltar  heaves  in  si^ht,  at  last ; 
Close  in  we  stood,  at  our  commander's  word, 
The  harbor  enter'd,  and  the  frigate  moor'd. 
Vievv'd  from  the  ship,  what  prospects  here  arise ! 
The  rock's  bold  summit  tow 'ring  to  the  skies, 
RoiL'd  in  eternal  clouds,  through  time  has  stood, 
Nods,  threats  and  frowns  terrific  on  the  flood  ! 
To  guard  the  fortress,  and  the  port  command. 
Hound  its  wall'd  base  repulsive  battVies  stand, 
Rows  above  rows,  huge  cannon  wide  extend, 
And  groves  of  muskets  glitt'ring  terrors  blend  ! 
But  flow'ry  gardens  soon  relieve  the  sight, 
And,  side  by  side,  lie  horror  and  delight. 


THE  LOAF. 

Written  in  TRIPOLI,  1804. 
THE  best  of  all  friends  is  the  friend  in  distress. 

And  more  the  rich  morsel  I  prize, 
Imparted  when  hunger  and  poverty  press,. 

Than  thousand?,  did  fortune ' 


POEMS. 

"With  gratitude,  friend,  to  the  parent  above, 
And  tiianks  to  yourself  not  a  few, 

I  took  the  sweet  loaf  as  a  token  of  love, 
And  ate  in  remembrance  of  you, 

To  life-wasting  hunger,  to  heart-piercing  cold, 

To  scourges  of  tyrants  a  prey  ; 
'Midst  demons  of  slavery,  too  fierce  to  be  told, 

And  comrades  more  brutish  than  they, 

The  least  of  my  wants  not  a  soul  has  reliev'd, 

Nor  friendship  emitted  a  beam  ; 
From  you  the  first  crust  of  regard  I  receiv'd— 

From  you  the  first  crumb  of  esteem. 

Then  take  the  fond  lay  as  the  yeast  of  return, 

For,  while  I  thus  indigent  live, 
Though  my  breast,  like  an  oven,  with  gratitude  hu 

'Tis  all  I  am  able  to  give. 


"  John  HilUard  died  in  the  evening"— -says  Dr. 
Cowdry. 

The" Doctor  is  as  laconic  iii  mentioning  the  death 
of  our  seamen,  as  he  was  remiss  in  attending  to 
them.  The  company  of  a  "  prince,'1  in  a  flower- 
garden,  was  much  more  pleasing  lo  the  Doctor, 
than  the  company  of  a  languishing  sailor,  in  a  drea 
ry  cell.  The  gratification  of  his  vanity  was  obvi 
ously  anterior  to  the  offices  ot  humanity.  Me  fre 
quently  informs  us  of  his  prescriptions  for  ttie  Ba- 
G  2 


74  POEMS. 

s!»aw  and  his  family,  but  seldom  mentions  the  sick 
ness  or  suilVrings  of  his  own  countrymen.  Bil 
liard  ditd  of  a  tiux,  which  might  have  been  greatly 
mitigated,  if  not  cured,  had  he  received  proper 
medical  attention. 

ELEGY 

On  the  death  of  JOHN  BILLIARD,  ff 'ho  died  Jan.  3df 
1804,  in  the  prison  of  Tripoli. 

[Published  in  the  Port  Fulio  3 
IIILLI  VRD,  of  painful  life  bereft 

Is  now  a  slave  no  more ; 
But  here  no  relative  is  left, 
His  exit  to  deplore  ! 

No  parent,  no  fond  brother,  stands 

Around  his  clay-cold  bed  ; 
No  \vife,  with  tender,  trembling  hands. 

Supports  his  dying  head. 

No  sister  follows  or  attends 

His  melancholy  bier; 
Nor  from  a  lovers  eye  descends 

The  soft  distilling  tear  ;— 

But  foes,  and  of  a  barb'rous  kind. 

Surround  him  as  he  dies  ; 
A  horror  to  his  fainting  mind. 

And  to  his  closing  eye*. 


POEMS.  rs' 

ELEGY 

On  the  death  ofLifiitei-ant  JAMES  DECATUR,  ?r?.-a 
fell  August  Sd,  1804,  in  an  action  u  i'z7i  I'm  i  rt- 
politan  gun-boats. 

THROUGH  these  drear  walls,  where  fiends  horri 
fic  reign, 

Chill  the  faint  heart  and  rend  the  frantic  brain! 
Where,  void  of  friends,  of  pleasure,  food  or  rest. 
The  vulture  slavery  preys  upon  the  breast; 
From  yon  thick  squadron,  whence  we  iiope  to  hear 
The  voice  of  freedom  charm  the  captive's  ear, 
Sounds  the  sad  tale.  DECATUR'S  name  deplore, 
For  that  young  hopeful  hero  breathes  no  more  ! 
He  left,  to  free  us  from  barbarian  chains, 
His  country's  bloom  ing  groves  and  peaceful  plains; 
Forever  sacred  be  those  arms  he  wore, 
The  cause  that  mov'd  him,  and  the  barque  that  bore; 
'Twas  heavVs  own  cause— 'twas  freedom's  injur d 

name, 

The  love  of  country  and  the  voice  of  fame 
Call'd  forth  his  active  martial  skill,  to  go 
Scour  the  wide  deep  and  scourge  the  tyrant  foe  : 
Dauntless  he  fights,  where  dying  groans  resound — 
And  thund'ring  carnage  roars  tremendous  round — 
?Till  heav'n  beheld  him  with  propitious  eyes, 
And  snatcVd  his  kindred  spirit  to  the  skies. 

When  from  the  Turks  his  mangled  form  they  bore* 
With  glory  cover  d,  balh'd  in  streaming  gore, 


f&  POEMS. 

Bewailing  friends  his  ghastly  wounds  surveyed, 
"Which  bid  defiance  to  all  human  aid, 
When  life  stoud  trembling,  ling'ringin  its  flight, 
And  heav'n's  blest  visions  dawnM  upon  his  sight ; 
The  radiant  shades  of  heroes  hov'ring  round, 
'Midst  harps  of  angels,  with  reviving  sound, 
Sooth '<!  the  last  pangs  of  his  undaunted  breast, 
And  wing'd  him,  convoy'd,to  eternal  rest. 
Could  worth  have  rescu'd,  or  could  virtue  save 
Her  heav'n-born  vot'ries  from  the  destin'd  grave; 
Could  sacred  friendship's  hallow'd  pray'rs  bestow 
The  gift  of  immortality  below ; 
Could  thousand's  sighs  and  tears,  that  ceaseless  roll. 
Call  from  the  shores  of  bliss  th'  angelic  soul : 
(Though  the  bold  wish  be  impious  deem'd  and  vain) 
Death  ne'er  had  reach'd  him,  or  he'd  live  again. 
But  fate's  decrees,  irrevocably  just, 
Doom'd  his  ft  ail  body  to  the  mingling  dust; 
In  yon  cold  deep  it  finds  unwak'd  repose, 
Far  from  th'  embrace  of  friends  or  reach  of  foes ; 
Till  the  last  trumpet's  loud  eternal  roar 
Call  forth  its  millions  from  the  sea  and  shore- 
Nor  till  the  final  blast  and  awful  day, 
Shall  that  brave  soul  re-aninate  its  clay. 


POEMS.  & 

LINES  ADDRESSED  TO  GEN7.  E.VTON, 

0>z  reading  the  Congressional  debate  respecting  his 
Golden  Medal.     Written  on  board  the  U.  States 
•frigate  Essex,  1805. 

A.ND  was  it  then  a  subject  of  debate, 
With  those  wise  Sotons,  in  the  house  of  state, 
Whether  should  Derm's  conqueror  staad  or  fall, 
Or  matchless  bravery  meet  reward  at  all  ? 
"Whether  should  EATON,  unexampled  brave, 
Who  fought  to  rescue,  and  who  bled  to  save 
Three  hundred  captive  souls  from  chains  and  death* 
Whose    lives   hung,  trembling,  on    a  murd'rer's 

breath, 

Whether  his  name  descend  to  future  days, 
On  the  bright  Medal  of  a  nation's  praise  ? 
Or,  should  his  trophies  be  by  all  forgot, 
Mis  with,  the  rubbish  of  the  times,  and  rot? 

"  Small  was  his  force,  half  naked  were  his  foes, 
"  And  though  so  numerous,  easy  to  oppose." 
Thus  argued  Randolph  ;   Clay  the  same  avows, 
And  fain  would  piuck  the  laurel  from  his  brows — •• 
The  sword  of  victYy  from  hi-  hand  would  wrest, 
And  tear  the  bad^e  of  valor  from  his  breast ; 
Bat,  thank  them  not,  though  justice  still  is  found, 
And  grateful  honors  wreath  his  temples  round. 

And  was  it  nought  those  burning  sands  t'  explore. 
Where  feet  of  Christians  never  trod  before? 


78-  POEMS* 

Where  freedom's  banners  ne'er  hatl  been  unfufW, 
Since  the  bold  Romans  ilourish'd  o'er  the  world  ? 
"Midst  fierce  Barbarians,  whom  no- laws  can  bind, 
"Wild  as  the  waves,  and  treacherous  as  the  v,  intl, 
To  rear  that  standard  and  so  long  defend, 
"With  less  than  twelve,  on  whom  he  might  depend 
To  storm  a  citadel  of  tenfold  might, 
And  hold  that  fortress,  till  the  flag  of  white 
Woo'd  him  to  yield  it.  on  the  terms  of  peace— 
Who  gave  his  captive  countrymen  release? 
For  EATON'S  boldness  first  appall'd  the  foe, 
Who,  forc'd  like  Pharaoh,  let  the  people  go. 

When  the  blest  shade  of  WASHINGTON-,  above, 
Saw  the  bold  chief  through  Lvbian  deserts  move, 
The  sword  of  vengeance  waving  in  the  sky, 
Resolv'd  to  free  his  brethren,  or  to  die, 
Those  patriot  *lev*n,  attending  on  his  way, 
His  visage  beam'd  a  more  celestial  ray ; 
To  WARREN  and  MONTGOMERY  shewM  the  si»ht; 
Then  sunk  in  glory,  and  absorbed  in  light. 

Oli!  did  he  live!  did  Fernon's  boast  again 
Shine  in  our  fields  or  in  our  councils  reign, 
His  voice  from  EATON  never  would  withhold, 
Altho'  with  pearls  enrich'd,  the  burnish'd  gold.; 
But  by  His  hand  would  ardently  be  prest, 
The  conscious  syoibol  to  his  dauntless  breast-. 


POEMS.  -J0 

Then  let  mean  envy  Randolph's  spite  betray, 
An  1  dart  thine  arrows,  impious  hand  of  Clay! 
1  'i  •  ;:aud  of  heuv'r. — for  heav'n  rewards  the  brave, 
Will  bless  thee,  EATON,  e'en  beyond  the  grave. 
While  gratitude  shall  warm  Columbia's  breast, 
Thy  name  shall  live,  thy  merits  stand  confest; 
Thy  deeds  sh^all  brighten  on  th*  historic  page, 
Year  after  year,  and  age  succeeding;  age — 
Wreatlis  of  thy  fatne,transferr'd  by  bards 
Shall  bloom  forever  'mid  the  wrecks  of  time. 


DESCRIPTION  OF  TRIPOLI. 

IVriiten  in  1803. 

YE  lurid  domes!  v/hosetoU'ring  columns  stand, 
Marks  of  the  despot's  desolating  hand: 
Whose  weed -grown  roofs  and   mould'ring  arches 

show 

The  curse  of  tyranny,  a  nation's  woe ; 
In  ev'ry  ruin— ev'rv  pile  I  find 
A  \varning  lesson  to  a  thoughtful  mind. 
Your  gloomy  cells  expressive  silence  break, 
Echo  to  groans,  and  eloquently  speak; — 
"  The  Christian  Yblood  cements  the  stones  he  rears; 
"  This  clay  was  moisten'd  with  a  Christian's  tears; 
"  Pale  as  these  wails  a  pris'ner  oft  has  Iuin> 
«c  Felt  the  keen  scourge  and  worn  the  ruthless  chain' v 
Ct  While  scoffing  foes  increasing  tortures  pour, 
"  Till  tiie  poor  victim  feels,  alas !  no  more  P' 


SO  "POEMS. 

Here  thy  brave  tars,  America,  are  found 
Lock'd  in  foul  prisons  and  iu  fetters  bound. 
Heav'ns!  what  sad  times !    must  free  Columbian 

bow 

Before  yon  tinsel  tyrant's  murky  br«w  1 
Cringe  to  a  pow'r  which  death  and  rapine  crown  ? 
Smile  at  a  smile,  and  tremble  at  a  frown  ? 
Kneel  at  a  throne,  its  clemency  implore, 
Enrich'd  by  spoils  and  stain'd  with  human  gore? 
Bear  the  sharp  lash,  the  pond'rous  load  sustain, 
Suppress  their  anger,  and  revenge  restrain  ? 
Leave  a  free  clime,  explore  the  treach'rous  waves, 
The  sport  of  miscreants  and  the  slave  of  slaves? 
Heav'ns  !  at  the  sight  each  patriot  bosom  glows 
With  virtuous  hatred  on  its  country's  foes ; 
At  ev'ry  blow  indignant  passions  rise, 
And  vengeance  flashes  from  resentful  eyes. 
Butheav'n  is  just,  though  man's  bt  wilder'd  mind 
To  the  dark  ways  of  providence  is  blind  ; 
Else  why  are  some  ordain'd  above  the  rest, 
Or  villains  treated  better  than  the  best  ? 
Why,  martyr'd  virtue,  hang  thy  injur'd  head  ? 
Why  liv'd  an  Arnold,  while  a  Warren  bled  ? 
Earth's  murd'rers  triumph,  proud  oppressors  reign. 
While  patriots  bleed  and  captives  si^h  in  vain? 
Yet slumb'ring  justice  soon  shall  wake  and  show 
fler  sword,  unsheaJi'd,   and  vengeance  wing  the. 

blow: 


POEMS. 

-Columbia's  genius,  glorious  as  the  sun, 
With  thy  blest  shade,  immortal  Washington  I 
Unite  to  guard  us  from  nefarious  foes, 
And  heav'n  defend,  and  angels  interpose, 
Devoted  tyrants  cause  just  wrath  to  feel, 
Make  Beys  and  Bashaws  i'i  submission  kneel ; 
Man's  equai  right,  sweet  liberty,  restore, 
And -despotism  crush,  to  rise  no  more. 


AVAR; 

Oil  A  PROSPECT  O*  IT, 

recent  ins'ancesof  British  outrag* 

VOTARIES  of  freedom  arm! 
The  British  lion  roars  ! 

Legions  of  valor,  taketh'  alarm- 
Rush,  rush  to  guard  our  shores ! 

Behold  the  horrid  deed — 

Your  brethren  gasping  lie; 
Beneath  a  tyrant's  hand  they  bleed — - 

Ihey  groan — they  faint — t..ey  die. 

Vet'rans  of  seventy-six, 

Awake  the  slumbering  sword  1 

Hearts  of  yottr  murderous  foes  transnx- 
'Tis  vengeance  gives  the  wor<|, 

H 


POEMS. 

Remember  Lexington, 

And  Bunker's  tragic  hill ; 
The  same  who  spilt  your  blood  thereoa. 

Your  blood  again  would  spill. 

Ye  who  have  seen  your  wives, 
Yrour  children,  and  your  sires, 

To  British  ruffians  yield  their  lives, 
And  roast  in  savage  fires; 

Our  cities  lost  in  flames— 
Your  mothers  captive  led— 
Rise  and  avenge  their  injur'd  names, 
Ye  kindred  of  the  dead. 

But  not  revenge  alone, 

Should  urge  you  to  the  field  ! 
Let  duty  lead  you  firm;y  on, 

And  Justice  be  your  shield. 

Sure  as  we  fail  to  join 

And  crush  our  impious  foes, 
War,  fire  and  sword,  and  death  combine* 

And  woes  succeed  to  woes. 

Behold,  with  blushes  red, 

The  sea  like  blood  appears; 
Our  streams  are  bridged  with  fancied  dead. 

And  britu'd  with  ophan's  tears; 


POEMS, 

flat  Union  can  perform 
The  wonders  of  a  host — 

Avert  the  danger,  quell  the  staim, 
And  drive  them  from  our  coast* 

Unite,  and  side  by  side, 
Meet  victVy  or  your  graves; 

That  moment  we  in  War  divide* 
That  moment  we  are  slaves. 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  COMMODORE 
PREBLE. 

WHILE  WAR,  fierce  monster,  siuinM  with  guiltless 

blood, 

Roirs,  threats,  and  rages  round  th*  infuriate  flood; 
While  hostile  Britons  murtl'ring  fleets  employ 
T'  infest  our  harbors  and  our  ships  destroy— 
Impress  our  tars  in  their  inglorious  cause, 
In  base  defiance  of  ail  nations'  la\vs  ; 
"When  each  bold  vet-ran,  in  his  country's  name,    . 
Is  callM  to  save  her  freedom  and  her  fame; 
"When  few  whose  bravery  and  whose  nauticskiU 
Can  duly  execute  her  sovereign  will  ; 
"What  sighs  of  sorrow  waft  from  shore  to  shore, 
"With  these  sad  tidings — •"  JJrtl'le  is  ho  morel'* 


84  POEMS. 

Erst  when  mad  Tripoli, in  prowess  vaiu, 
With  her  rapacious  corsairs  block'd  the  maic> 
PourM  round  our  ships  in  predatory  swarms, 
V/ith  purple  banners  and  audacious  arms— 
Our  neutral  cargoes  plunder'd  on  the  waves* 
Aad  made  our  free-born  citizens  her  slaves ; 
When  our  late  frigate  groan 'd  upon  the  shoals,. 
So  deeply  freighted  with  three  hundred  souls, 
Who  sigh'd  in  durance  till  yon  lamp  of  night 
Full  twenty  changes  had  renew'd  its  light, 
*Twas  Freble  first  that  dauntless  squadron  led, 
Where  S'jmers  perish'd,  and  Decatur  bled ; 
Where  JVadsivorth,  Jsrae/,  met  in  death  their  fate, 
With  kindred  martyrs  full  as  brave  and  great ; 
'Twas  Freble  first  those  barb'rous  pirates  show'd- 
JUSTICE  was  all  the  tribute  that  we  ow'd, 
And  prov'd  that  when  Columbia  vengeance  bears, 
?Tis  nought  but  mercy  that  the  victim  spares. 

Let  British  bards,  in  mercenary  lays, 
Chaunt  forth  elegiac  strains  to  Nelson's  praise; 
Though  oft  victorious,  and  though  madly  brave, 
He  fought  that  tyranny  might  crush  the  slave; 
He  fought  that  tyrants  o'er  the  world  might  rule, 
And  died  a  mad-man,  as  he  livM  a  fool. 

"But  Preble's  cause  e'en  heav'n  itself  might  own, 
In,  heav'n  'tis  cherislvd,  and  through    earth   'tis 
known  J 


POEMS.  85 

In  heav'n  'tis  warbled  from  enraptured  choirs, 
It  charms  their  numbers,  and  it  tunes  their  l\ns — 
The  cause  of  FREEDOM — dear  to  him  who  knows 
The  adverse  honors  and  the  poignant  woes 
Of  slavery,  dungeons,  hunger,  stripes  and  chains, 
With  dismal  prospects  of  augmented  pains! 
To  free  the  captive,  noble,  gen'rous  deed, 
Who  would  not  swear  to  fight,  or  sigh  to  bleed  ? 
To  free  the  captive,  Preble  wingM  his  aid, 
And  more  firm  valor  never  was  display M. 
When  round  our  prison's  solitary  walls 
Burst  the  dread  meteor-bomb-shells — shower'd  the 

balls  ! 

Our  hearts  for  liberty  or  death  beat  high, 
And  who  for  freedom  would  not  wish  to  die  ? 
To  him  we  look'd,  on  him  our  hopes  relied  — 
The  friend  of  seamen,  and  the  seaman's  pride  ; 
To  him  Wv?  look'd,  and  righteous  heaven  imploi'cl 
To  speed  the  vengeance  of  his  slaughtering  sword? 
Nor  is  he  now,  though  vain  his  efforts  prov'd, 
The  less  lamented  or  the  less  belov'd  ; 
But  each  late  captive,  year  succeeding  year, 
Will  bless  his  mem'ry,  and  his  name  revere. 

Yes,  gallant  chief!  though    virtuous,  just  and 

brave, 

Thine  is  the  lot  of  man — the  dreary  grave  ! 
With  heroes  fainted,  who  have  «one  before, 
Like  them  we  pri/Al  thee,  and  like  them  deplore  J 
H2 


86  POEMS. 

And  though  thine  arm,  of  Barb'ry  once  the  dread, 
Lies  cold  and  withered  'midst  the  unconscious  dead, 
Unfading  laurels  at  thy  name  shall  bloom, 
Spring  from  thy  dust,  and  flourish  round  thy  tomb? 

Lamented  chief!  though  death  he  calmly  past, 
Our  Navy  trembled  when  he  brcath'd  his  last! 
Our  Navy  mourns  him,  but  it  mourns  in  vain, 
A  Preble  ne'er  will  live — ne'er  die  again  ! 
Yet  hope  desponding,  at  the  thought  revives, 
A  second  Preble.' — a  Decatur  lives! 
His  worth,  his  merit,  well  are  understood, 
His  hand  is  skilful  and  his  heart  is  good ; 
Bold  shall  he  chase  yon  demons  of  the  wave. 
For  all  who  know  him — know  him  to  be  brave. 

To  him  Columbia  casts  her  streaming  eyes, 
"Wipes  their  free  torrent,  and  suspends  her  sighs, 
September  7tht  1807. 


POEMS. 

CASH. 

WISE  moralists  in  vain  have  told 
How  sordid  is  the  love  of  gold, 

Wiiicli  they  call  filthy  trash  ; 
Thou  stranger  to  these  eyes  of  mine. 
Ten  thousand  virtues  still  are  thiue,- 

Thou  all  sufficient  CASH  ! 

Though  thy  intrinsic  worth  is  small, 
Yet,  MONEY,  thou  art  all  in  all — 

Though  transient  as  a  flash, 
In  passing  just  from  hand  to  hand, 
The  earth  is  at  thy  sole  command — 

It  gravitates  to  CASH. 

Possess'd  of  thee,  we  may  defv, 
Not  death  itself,  but  very  nigh  ; 

For  when  the  tyrant's  lash 
Is  felt,  and  ah  !  'twas  felt  by  me, 
It  did —it  will  the  vassal  free — 

Then  who  despises  CASH. 

By  nature  void  of  evVy  grace, 

If  thou  hast,  (reader!  view  thy  face,) 

But  this  cosmetic  wash, 
Twill  whiten  and  improve  the  skin— 
Thy  monkey  nose— thy  cheeks,  and  chin, 

Are  beautified  by  CASH. 


POEMS. 

And  though  your  mental  pow'rs  be  weak, 
To  you  who  money  have  I  speak, 

Go  on     shave — cut  and  slash; 
For  men  of  genius  and  of  sense, 
If  poor,  will  make  a  pour  defence, 

Against  the  man  of  CASH. 

Or  should  you,  for  the  basest  crimes, 
Become  indicted  fifty  times, 

This  settles  all  the  harsh; 
For  bills  which  leave  the  poor  no  hope, 
T'  escape  the  dungeon,  or  the  rope, 

Are  cancell'd,  all,  by  CASH. 

Nay,  'twill  be  found  that  Money  can 
The  grov'ling  beast  transform  to  Man, 

Though  ditf 'rent  natures  clash ; 
For 'tis  a  fact  beyond  dispute, 
The  Miser's  far  beneath  the  brute — 

A  lump  of  living  CASH. 

And  yet  what  crowds  around  him  wait- 
Behold  him  cloth'd  in  pow'r  and  state— 
The  garter,  star  and  sash  ; 
Fools  fly  before  the  potent  nod  ; 
Of  him  whose  flesh,  whose  soul,  whose  god, 
Whose  heaven  itself  is  CASH. 


POEMS. 

But,  sons  ofpLUTUs!  lest  ye  go 
To  those  infernal  mines  below, 

Where  teeth  are  said  to  gnash— 
Give  to  the  needy — bribe  the  grave- 
Oil,  if  you  wish  your  souls  to  save, 

Be  gen  'rous  of  your  CASH. 


A  POETICAL  A  DDRESS 

From  tJie  Publishers  of  the  ONTOMD\GA  GAZETTE 

to  th eir  readers — 1 81 6. 
TO  give  you  timely  information 
Of  things  momentous  to  the  nation, 
Mixt  with  events  of  recent  date, 
Most  interesting  to  the  state ; 
The  patriotic  flame  to  fan, 
Which  glows  in  ev'ry  virtuous  man ; 
And  rouse  to  energy  that  spirit 
"Which  true  Republicans  inherit ; 
Au-ment  their  zeal,  their  strength  uuite, 
To  guard,  with  vigilance,  each  right 
Against  domestic  machinations, 
As  well  as  foreign  depredations; 
And  save,  if  in  their  powV  to  save, 
What  GOD  and  Nature  to  us  gave — 
The  richest  blessings  ever  known — 
BrizM  and  enjoyM  by  us  alone; 


#*  POEMS. 

For  these,  and  other  objects  yet, 
We  print  and  publish  this  Gazette 
Though  paramount  to  all  the  rest 
Are  motives  previously  express'd  ; 
Though  we  shall  always  set  before 
Tou  wholesome  food,  if  nothing  more? 
Yet  shall  it  be  our  constant  care 
To  give  you  palatable  fare, 
With  now  and  then  a  dainty  bit 
Of  highly  seasoned  native  wit ; 
Taking  due  caution,  though,  in  punning, 
That  authors  do  not  get  too  cunning; 
For  nothing  injures  printers  more, 
Than  turning  common  sense  out  door, 
And  letting  in,  at  ev'ry  rap, 
The  scribblings  of  some  witty  chap, 
Written,  perhaps,  with  mighty  pains,. 
Without  the  requisite  of  bruins. 

Though  interested  warm  collisions, 
And  wide  political  divisions 
Unhappily  exist,  and  will, 
In  spite  of  all  the  statesman's  skill ; 
Although  we  cannot  smiling  stand, 
And  take  Sedition  by  the  hand  ; 
Hold  friendly  concourse  with  those  wights 
Wh.i  own  t'ic  signal  of  Blue  Lights; 
Although  we  must  and  will  oppose 
we  dean  our  country's  foes) 


POEMS.  Si 

Men,  who    in  peril's  darkest  day, 
In  ainb^is1!,  like  assassins,  lay, 
Ready  t>  seiz%  with  trait'rous  hand, 
The  reins  which  government  command,, 
Athl  drive,  with  more  than  hellish  hate, 
To  headlong  crush  the  car  of  state, 
Yet  shall  it  be  our  steady  aim, 
To  injure  no  man's  private  fame  5 
But  hold  as  sacred  ev'ry  tet-ier 
That  binds  society  together. 

Religion,  pure  and  undt-fil'd, 
Of  Heav'n  the  ever  darling  child, 
Whatever  sect  or  name  she  bears, 
Whatever  hue  or  garb  she  wears, 
If  founded  on  the  gospel  plan — 
Of  love  to  GOD  and  love  to  man, 
Shall  ne'er  be  scoff  'd  at,  nor  neglected. 
But  honor'd  cherish 'd,  and  respected. 
Moralityt  her  sister,  too, 
Shall  meet  with  all  attention  due — 
Her  precepts  strictly  be  regarded, 
Her  merits  handsomely  rewarded, 
By  ev'ry  effort,  means  and  way, 
A  public  journal  can  display. 

Retailers  here  may  advertise 
Their  goods  and  wares,  and  merchandize— 


*9i  POEMS. 

3Vith— "  Just  receivM,  and  now  for  sale, 

"  By  piece,  or  pattern,  yard  or  nail, 

"  Fresh  goods,  of  latest  iniport.it ion, 

"  From  evVy  kingdom,  port,  and  r.atieiN— 

"  Brandy,  tobacco,  rum  and -wine,- — 

**  Tea,  sugar,  broadcloths,  superfine, 

"  Coffee,  and  pepper,  and  molasses— 

"  Mugs,  pitchers,  teapots,  looking  glasses  ~~ 

**  Calicoes,  muslins,  ladies'  feathers, 

"  For  them  to  fly  with  thro'  all  weathers  5 

"  Shawls,  flannels,  ribbons,  tapes  and  laces, 

**  And  veils,  to  cloud  their  pretty  faces  ; 

"  Horsewhips,  for  such  as  want  them  most 

fft  ( Andsuch  as  want  them,  what  a  host  !  j 

ei  All  which  we  paid  for,  in  our  notes, 

"  And  offer,  cheap,  for  corn  and  oats — 

"  Wheat,  rye,  or  barley,  butter,  cheese, 

"  Credit,  or  money,  if  you  please, 

w  Though  specie  scarcer  is,  by  far, 

-"  Than  tories  were  in  time  of  war.w 

Lawyers  and  sheriffs,  often  trouhlish, 
Fi.  Fa.s  and  mortgages  may  publish, 
And  sell  the  debtor's  goods  and  chattels, 
For  costs  and  int'rest — toys  and  rattles; 
And  when  all  other  sources  fail, 
Pack  off  his  body  to  a  jail ; 
Although  they  sometimes,  paring  thin, 
Ihe  carcase  leave,  but  take  the  skin. 


POEMS. 

"T'escape  from  too  much  work,  or  Hogging, 
hould  your  apprentices  be  jogging; 
Should  horses  cattle,  sheep,  or  swine, 
Half  starv'd  at  home,  walk  out  to  dine—* 
(Meeting  some  unforseen  disaster, 
Never  return  to  "serve  their  master;*') 
Here  you  may  spread  the  news  around, 
And  find  them — landed  in  a  pound. 
Or  should  your  kind  and  loving  spouse, 
Desert  your  bed  and  board,  and  house; 
(For  nought  on  earth,  as  you  can  tell, 
But  being  lov'd  by  you  top  well) — 
Ramble  and  tattle,  scold  and  fret, 
And  run  you  head  and  ears  in  debt; 
Here  you  may  all  your  reasons  muster, 
And  warn  the  public  not  to  trust  her, 
Who  basely  has  your  head  cornuted, 
On  pain  of  being  prosecuted. 
Here,  too,  the  woman  may  defend 
Her  Character  from  head  to  end, 
And  swear,  by  all  that's  jrr^dt  and  good, 
No  lady  ever  since  t'io  flooJ, 
Not  even  Bonaparfe's  old  queen, 
Was  so  abusM  as  she  has  been  ; 
Whose  very  life  was  rendered  risky, 
Bv  that  nefarious  son  of — wni.sk 
Waiie  neighbors  prove  to  one  another, 
^TThat one's  as  tmicii  to  bi;ur;e  as  't'other, 
I 


POEMS. 

Should  some  sweet  maid  by  chance  get  married, 
The  news  can  rapidly  be  carried 
Through  all  the  country  far  and  wide, 
(\n  odd  way  to  salute  the  bride) 
A  modc&t  manner  to  make  known 
What  modesty  would  blush  to  own  ; 
But  wisely  meant  to  keep  the  fair, 
Though  antiquated,  from  despair. 

Should  Bonaparte  Old  Nick  subpoena, 
And  so  escape  from  St   Helena; 
Re-enter  subjugated  France, 
(For  which  there  seems  to  be  no  chance) 
And  the  Prince  Regent  so  affright, 
That  he  should  bid  the  world  good  night; 
The  allied  troops  again  attack, 
And  throw  the  Sovereigns  on  their  back  ; 
Resume  the  sceptre  and  the  crown, 
And  drum  the  Bourbons  out  of  town  ; 
Should  things  as  strange  as  this,  or  stranger, 
Occur,  (of  which  ve  think  no  danger) 
Should  wealth  and  impudence  divide, 
Or  ignorance,  be  divort'd  from  pride; 
Should  perfect  honesty  be  found 
Except  at  six  feet  under  ground — 
Disinterestedness  u  ppear, 
In  shape  of  any  mortal  here; 
Should  miracles  like, these  transpire, 


POEMS. 

Volcanoes  burst,  or  um  us  take  lire  ; 

Or  should  another  conflagration 
;  Destroy  tae  round-house  of  the  nation; 

Or  a  Connecticut  Convention, 

Again  show  treasonable  intention: 

Should  Mr.  Secretary  DwigUt, 

Puff  out  his  «•  Albany  Blue  Light  ;'•» 

Oar  paper  never  shall  refuse 
t  To  spread,  ia  time,  such  dreadful  news 

k 
[_ W  KITTEN   IN  TRIPOLI.] 

Tune — "  Madam  you  know  my  trade  is  war  FJ 
COLUMBIA  !  while  the  sons  of  fame 
Thy  freedom  through  the  uorld  proclaim, 
And  hell-born  tyrants  dread  the  name 

That  wills  all  nations  free; 
Renute,  on  Barb'ry's  pirate  coast, 
By  foes  enslav  'd,  a  miscreant  host, 
Ko  more  the  rights  of  man  we  boast— » 

Adieu,  blest  Libeity  ! 

llo.v  fearful  lour'd  the  gloomy  dav, 
When,  stranded  on  the  shoals  we  lay 
Expns'd,  our  foremast  cut  away, 
To  the  rou^h  dashing  sea ; 


OS  POEMS. 

When  hostile  gun-boats  thundcr'd  round, 
And  no  relief,  nor  hopes  were  found, 
These  mournful  words  swell'd  ev'ry  sound; 
Adieu,  blest  Liberty  1 

In  helpless  servitude,  forlorn, 

From  country,  friends,  and  freedom  torn, 

Alike  \ve  dread  each  night  and  morn, 

For  nought  but  grief  we  see  ; 
When  burthens  press — the  lash  we  bear, 
And  all  around  is  black  despair, 
We  breathe  the  silent,  fervent  pray  V, 

O  come,  blest  Liberty  ! 

Mem'ry,  to  viuVrv  e'er  unkind, 
Brings  present,  to  the  painful  mind, 
The  woes  oblivion,  else,  would  find, 

And  evils  cease  to  be  ; 
And  fancy,  when  we're  wrapp,d  in  bleep. 
Conveys  us  o'er  the  boundless  deep; 
But,  wak'd  to  sigh,  we  live  to  weep, 

Adieu,  blest  Liberty ! 

And  when  invading  cannons  roar, 

And  life,  their  blood,  from  hundreds  pour, 

And  mangled  bodies  iloat  ashore, 

And  ruins  strew  the  sea  ; 
The  thoughts  of  death,  or  freedom, 
Create  alternate  hope  and  fear; 
Oh!  when  will  that  blest  day  appear, 

That  brings  sweet  Liberty  ! 


When  rear'd  on  yonder  castle's  height, 
That  now  bare  flagstaff's  d rest  in  white* 
"We  gaze,  enraptur'd  at  the  sight; 

How  happy  shall  we  be! 
"When  thund'ring  guns  proclaim  a  peace, 
Dur  toils  all  o'er,  our  woes  shall  cease, 
"We'll  bless  the  powY  that  brings  release, 

And  hail  sweet  liberty  ! 


POLITICAL. 

'  One  can't  go  right,  the  other  may  go  wrong.' 

•THE  man  who  thinks  that  all  is  right, 
Done  by  republicans,  is  quite — 

Nay  dreadfully  mistaken: 
Meanness,  and  selfishness,  and  wrong, 
As  much  to  some  of  them  belong, 

As  hog's-flesh  does  to  bacon. 

Some  of  the  leading  ones  we  mean, 
"Who  never  fail  to  step  between 

True  merit  and  promotion; 
Shoving  superior  worth  aside, 
A  pass  to  make  for  crafty  pride— 

Self-idol  of  devotion. 

Genius  is  nothing  in  the  scale 
"Weigh'd  against  property :— a  whale 
Oat  balances  a  ruby ; 
12 


<j8  POEM  & 

And  so  the  man  of  wealth  we  rate> 
Not  by  his  wisdom,  but  his  weight, 
A  huge  important  booby ! 

'Tisso — deny  it  if  you  can— 
"Where  is  the  poor  but  virtuous  man, 

Who  scorns  dissimulation? 
Not  with  the  bays  of  honor  crown' J— > 
Not  gen*  rally  in  office  found, 

But  a  secluded  station. 

A  few  mad  demagogues  combin'd, 
Worse  than  blind  leaders  of  the  blind 

The  people  land  in  ditches  ; 
And  while  they  flounce  and  founder  there, 
Themselves  the  loaves  and  fishes  shares— 

Honor,  and  pow'r,  and  riches. 

Raising  their  salaries  so  high, 
((Economy  their  constant  cry) 

A  rod -pole  cannot  reach  them  ; 
And  would  you  call  them  to  account, 
To  what  would  your  complaints  amount? 

They  know  you  can't  impeach  them. 

To  ev?ry  office  in  the  state, 
These  claim  the  right  to  nominate — 
Themselves  or  their  descendeiits; 
And  if  you  strike  them  from  the  list, 
Large  swarms,  more  hungry  still,  exist— 
Their  friends,  and  their  dependents. 


POEMS.  tig- 

But  let  not  fed'ral  leaders  hence, 
Exult  in  their  own  innocence, 

Nor  think  these  accusations 
Exculpate  them  from  equal  blame- 
No — to  their  everlasting  shame, 

Much  baser  speculations 

Have  mark'd  the  progress  of  their  reign  ^ 
And  should  they  rise  to  pow'r  again, 

(O  righteous  Heav'a  forbid  it !) 
What  might  we  not  expect  from  thoste" 
Who  late  caress'd  their  country's  foes. 

And  if  they  lov'd  her — hid  it! 

Evil  and  good  are  mixM  in  all, 
Great  fishes  swallow  up  the  small, 

And  so  'twill  be  forever; 
Yet,  could  the  people  learn  to  know 
Their  rights,  their  strength,  'twould  not  be  so^. 

When  will  that  happen? — never. 


1o  those  democratic  Members    of  Congress, 

voted  for  the  Salary  Bill— 1816, 
WELL  done,  republicans',  well  done! 
All  your  constituents,  as  one, 

Pronounce  you  modern  sages; 
Not  bound  by  economic  rules, 
Which  govern  mercenary  fools, 

In  calculating  wages. 


100'  POEMS. 

Before,  how  paltry  was  your  pay! 
"YVhatr  was  six  dollars  for  each  day, 

Spent  in  gallanting  ladies — 
Riding  in  coaches,  drinking  wine. 
Dressing,  and  going  out  to  dine, 

As  ev'ry  member's  trade  is  ? 

"What  was  six  dollars  for  a  night? 
Ah  !  here's  a  question  that  rubs  tight, 

And  so  we  pass  it  over ; 
No  doubt  you  gambled,  now  and  then. 
And  liv'd  like  other  Congressmen— • 

That  is,  like  pigs  in  clover. 

"What  if  the  people  groan'd  and  sweat, 
Beneath  the  load  of  public  debt, 

To  sate  your  rights  contracted  ? 
Must  the  physician  have  the  less, 
The  more  his  patient  feels  distress, 

And  gen'rously  has  acted  ? 

What  if  the  soldiers  scanty  pay 
Was  less  per  month  than  yours 

His  recompence  vt*B glory; 
liut  as  you've  none  of  that  to  share, 
Would  people  have  you  live  on  air? 

A  very  pretty  story  ! 


POEMS. 

What  is  eqality  ? — pray  tell — 

A  theme  which  answers  mighty  well 

To  harp  on  at  elections  ; 
But  when  elected,  very  soon, 
You'll  find  those~harpers  change  their  tune* 

Or  play  it  with  objections. 

And  what's  ceconomy  r  alas! 

A  spurious  bill,  that  will  not  pass> 

Amongst  our  legislators; 
But  farmers  know  it  to  be  true,. 
And  take  it  as  for  specie  due, 

For  they  were  its  creators. 

Haw  comfortably  must  you  feel, 
After  a  full  and  hearty  meal 

Of  public  loaves  and  fishes ; 
But  wait  till  the  next  Congress  meet— --• 
Chance  if  they  leave  you  much  to  eat. 

Except  to  lick  the  dishes. 

Yet,  after  all,  'tis  not  so  bad — 
One  consolation  may  be  had — 

Proclaim  it,  from  the  steeple, 
That  you  resign — and  so  fulfil 
What  you  were  sent  to  do — the  will, 

And  icis/tes  of  the  people. 


£02  POEMS;- 

THE  PAPERS. 

Written  in  1816. 
TO  take  the  papers  some  refuse, 
Because  they  say  there  is  no  news 

Of  Wood,  and  fire,  and  thunder; 

But  let  your  recollection  range • 

Surely  ne'er  happened  things  more  strange;. 

Events  more  full  of  wonder ! 

The  Hudson  river,  all  suppose, 
Directly  to  the  southward  flows, 

But,  waxing  mighty  cunning, 
Albanian  wiseacres  have  found, 
The  stream  has  turnM  completely  round,. 

And  to  the  north  is  running ! 

With  lifted  hands  and  bristled  hair, 
Do  you,  affrighted  Dreader,  stare 

At  this  odd  revolution  ? 
\Vhy,  'lisas  reas'nable  and  true, 
As  what  those  dunces  prate  to  you 

About  the  constitution  ;•— 

"Which  tells  you  plainly  to  your  face, 
That  an  '  election'  shall  take  place, 

Whenever  a  'vacation' 
Shall  happen  of  the  'g-or'nw's  seat? 
By  his  'removal'  or  retreat, 

By  'forth*  or  'resignation.' 


POEMS. 

And  yet  they  torture  language  so, 
As  to  n*ake  out  that  ay  means  no, 

And  •  c/zos??i' —  not  elected  ;' 
.But  know,  vain  sophisters,  that  we, 
The  'sovereign people?  all  can  see 

Your  object — 'tis  detected. 

High  sal-rip-,  too,  the  people  strike 
"With  consternation  .and  dislike — 

Who  echo  back  their  curses; 
And  non-electionists  now  stand 
Leagued  with  those  vultures  hand  in  hand, 

That  prey  upon  your  purses, 

To  foreign  regions  cast  your  eyes — 
Does  nothing  there  excite  surprise, 

Where  dreadful  agitations 
Convulse  degraded  bleeding  France, 
Who  once  led  tyrants  such  a  dance, 

The  wonder  of  all  nations  ? 

Portentous  clouds  o'er  Europe  low'r, 
And  some  predict  the  bloody  show'r 

Th»  Rourbon  house  will  hit  on ; 
White  otb<— • ,  pq"-".^-  as  wise, 
Fcretel*.    ;>:it  vengeance  f-,m  the  skies, 

Wili  fall  upon  Great  Britain. 

Turning  from  European  scenes, 
>\ituess  the  faithless  AI«erines- 


104 

All  Christendom  affrighting ! 
Lord  Exmouth  with  his  squadron  strong, 
Jfinds  like  Lord  Byron's  tragic  song, 

With  more  of/o«-  than  fighting, 

Can  you,  with  heart  and  passions  cold, 
The  South  Americans  behold, 
>    Seeking  emancipation 
From  Spanish  thraldom,  and  not  feel 
Your  blood  alternately  congeal, 
And  burn  with  indignation, 

At  the  '  legitimates'  of  Spain? 
Whose  curs'd  inquisitorial  chain 

Binds  millions  for  the  slaughter, 
All  for  the  love  and  cause  of  GOD, 
Making  the  cross  a  scourging  rod, 

First  soakM  in  holy  water. 

Contracting  your  expanded  views, 
Again  survey  domestic  news — 

Important  times  are  coming  ; 
The  presidential .-choice  draws  near, 
And  distant  frd'ral  groans  we  hear, 

Like  partridges  a  drumming, 

MONROE  and  TOMPKTNS  are  the  toast, 
49  a  r  expectation  and  our  boast, 
Our  confidence  and 


POEMS. 

On  these  your  suffrages  bestow— 

».  "v 

.And  brinr  high  sai'ry  members  low, 
Jit  least,  another  story. 


EVILS. 

IN  th«*  best  e-overn'nent  on  earth., 

M'xt  evils  may  be  found  ; 
Which  owe  their  being  and  their  birth 

Not  to  our  mother  ground  ; 
But  to  those  passions  lodg'd  in  man, 
That  envy,  pudz,  and  at? Vice  tan. 

Envy,  the  meanest  of  them  all, 

With  red  malignant  eyes, 
Rejoices  at  a  brother's  fall, 

And  laughs  when  mis'ry  cries ! 
How  strange,  that  such  a  fiend  cf  hell, 
Should  ever  ia  a  mortal  dwell ! 

Pride,  too,  dis^isting,  hateful  imp, 
From  froth  and  vapor  sprung; 

Ambition's  slave—  nay,  pleasure's  pimp— 
Whose  hea-1,  atr.I  heart,  and  tongue, 

W  :igl  '  '  i<   tl    i  ^ea'her,  scarce  would  show 

Waiun  way  tilt  Balance  ought  to  go. 

£  -:.  . .  gga  rd ,  graspi  ng  h  a  nd, 

Coils  rouud  the  .'.cart  by  steal tii , 


106  POEMS. 

Whose  soul  is  either  cash  or  land— 

Whose  Ddty  is  Wealth; 
To  this  he  adoration  pays, 
And  this  the  heav'n  for  which  he  prays. 

These,  or  when  clashing,  or  combin'd, 
Their  baleful  influence  lend, 

Becloud  and  brutalize  the  mind, 
Which  knows  no  other  end, 

Till  anger,  strife,  and  vengeance  pour, 

A  wild  tornado — hear  it  roar ! 

Swepping  the  virtues  in  its  course, 
And  spreading  wide  dismay, 

Despoiling  reason  of  its  force, 
And  hurling  peace  away ; 

Senates  and  people  feel  the  storm 

Of  war  internal — frightful  form ! 

Hence,  too,  dark  jealousies  arise, 

Of  deleterious  pow'rs, 
Which  fall  in  hailstorms,  from  the  skies, 

And  b'ast  tte  fairest  flowYs— 
Domestic  happiness  destroy, 
And  all  the  fruits  of  tranquil  joy. 

Thus  urg'd,  see  parties  firm  engage. 

An  ink  bespafter'd  field! 
And  see  the  warlike  papers  rage, 

Deterinin'd  not  to  yield-— 


POEMS.  lor 


Office,  alas !  too  oft  their  aim — 
Unjust  reward,  too — what  a  shame! 

Oar  government  is  free  and  £ood 
As  e'er  was  foriu'd  by  11x1111, 

The  price  of  toils,  of  groans,  ofbloodj 
And  wisdom  is  its  plan ; 

Yet  sufijr  reasou  thus  t'  infer— 

?ris  human — and  of  course — may  err* 


SPRING. 

Published  in  the  Northern  'Budget — 180S, 
IIOW  pleasing  now  to  range  the  fields, 
"When  nature  all  her  fragrance  yields, 

And  when  she  deigns  to  bring, 
Of  vernal  joys,  the  green-rob'd  train, 
Who  dance,  enraptur'd,  o'er  the  plain, 

Led  by  the  charmer,  SPIUXG. 

The  lambs  their  sprightly  gambols  play, 
The  birds  awake  the  matin  lay, 

And  mount  upon  the  wing — 
Convene,  and  forming  dulcet  choirs, 
Sate  their  chaste,  innocent  desires, 

And  hail  the  smiling  SPRING. 

Not  the  sweet  voices  of  the  Nine, 
Should  Grp/teusaud  Jpotfojoiii. 


10S  POEMS, 


each  atfune  the  string, 
Coukl  half  the  music  yiuld,  for  me, 
As,  warbling  from  yon  bush  and  tree, 
The  melody  of  SPUING, 

Though  naked  and  forlorn  the  trees 
(Like  sailors  shipwreck'd  on  the  seas) 

Late  felt  the  Winter'frsting, 
'TS  thine  to  clothe  them,  and  to  vvarmr 
To  feed  them  —  to  repel  the  storm—- 

So  bountiful  is  SPRING. 

Though  modern  bards.fand  those  of  yore 
Have  sun^  thy  praises  o'er  and  o'er, 

Aj;aiii  the  Muse  s'lall  sing 
Of  all  thy  virtues,  and  thy  pow'r 
To  charm  the  bud  into  a  flow'r, 

Thou  soul-enliv'mng  SPRING. 
Confin'd  to  cities'  noisy  sports, 
"Whether  in  Congress,  or  in  courts, 

'  I'is  but  a  joyless  tiling  ; 
Midst  the  dull  round  of  pleasures  stale, 
The  cit  but  seldom  can  inhale 

The  balmy  breath  of  SPRING. 

While  tumults  craze  the  heads  orstatca 
The  rich,  voluptuous  and  the  great, 

Or  President,  or  king  ; 
The  peasant,  in  his  homelv  <are, 
Devoid  "Ttltlps,  wealth  or  c  r^, 

Tastes  all  the  sweets  of  SPE:H  5. 


POEMS.  10D 

But  since  the  fairest  flovv?r  must  fade- 
Must  meet  destruction  all  that's  made, 

When  Death  his  dart  shall  fling, 
Let  us  enjoy  the  passing  hour, 
Till  we  arrive  where  every  flow'r 
Blooms  in  eternal  SPRING. 


SYMPATHY. 

Addressed  to  a  friend,  on  reading  his  poetical  effu 
sion,  called  "  RESIGNATION." 

THYheav'n-tuught  strains  that  sweetly  flow, 
In  resignation  to  thy  woe, 

With  ipiv'nag  lips  I  read  ; 
While  weeping  Sympathy  stood  near, 
And  holy,  holy  was  the  tear 

The  listening  angel  shed. 

Soft  Sensibility  awoke 

She  saw  the  wound  and  felt  the  stroke 

Affliction  gave  her  son  ; 
But  faint  and  trembling  at  the  sight, 
Could  only  veil  her  eyes  of  light, 

And  weep  for  what  was  done. 

Oh  !  had  I  pow'r,  the  gift  or  skill, 
But  co-extensive  with  tne  will, 
How  gladly  would  I  pour 
K    2 


110  POEM& 

The  balm  of  consolation  where 
The  fiends  of  sorrow,  grief  and  care. 
Could  torture  thee  no  more. 

But,  like  thyself,  pale  mis'ry's  child, 
I  zander  through  a  dismal  wild, 

Unpitied — lost — forlorn  ^ 
No  gleam  of  hope  illumes  the  way  I 
A  total  dark  eclipse  of  day, 

A  night  without  a  morn 


Is  still  my  lot and  God  alone, 

Whose  will  in  earth  and  heav'n  be  done, 

Can  solve  the  doubt  and  show, 
"Why  man  was  born  to  ceaseless  pain, 
And  why  the  heart  must  bleed  in  vain,, 

At  sight  of  others*  woe. 

But,  as  from  darkest  clouds  that  rise, 
Jleav'n's  lightnings  blaze  athwart  the  skies, 

At  midnight's  avviul  gloom, 
Unveiling  glories  else  unseen; 
So  ligiit  divine  breaks  in  between 

Our  sorrows  and  the  tomb. 


POEMS.  1U 

TO  SUMMER. 

TFritttn  in  Dug  dans. 
I'VE  sung,  and  hope  a<;uin  to  sing 
The  j  >ys  of  Autumn,  Winter,  Spring,^ 

Those  multifarious  seasons; 
But  sever  jet  have  trill M  a  lay- 
To  thee,  O  SUMMER,  in  my  day, 

For  no  substantial  reasons. 

Come  then,  neglected  maid,  draw  near? 
And  a  sweet  sonnet  thou  shall  hear, 

From  one  who  loves  thee  dearly; 
For  he  who  feels,  through  all  his  frame,   - 
As  if  his  flesh  were  in  a  flame, 

Must  worship  thee  sincerely. 

Come  with  thy  sparkling  blue  cast  eyes— 
Those  gems  that  bless  the  cloudless  skies, 

When  sun  and  moon  are  sleeping, 
And  pensive  nature  softly  sheds 
Her  pearly  dew-drops  o'er  their  beds, 

As  if  their  exit  weeping. 

Come,  at  the  morning's  early  dawn, 
When  night  her  curtain  has  withdrawn, 

And  day,  with  all  his  splendors, 
Walks  forth  in  majesty  and  pride, 
While  stars  their  beauteous  (aces  hide, 

And  earth  her  homage  renders. 


POEMS. 

Come,  at  the  sultry  noontide  heat, 
Anil  lead  me  to  a  cool  retreat, 

Where  a  delicious  fountain 
Profusely  issues  from  a  rock, 
Hent  by  an  earthquake's  awful  shock— 

The  foot  of  yonder  mountain. 

There  let  me  join  the  reaper's  ring, 
And  quatFthe  waters  of  the  spring, 

Transmuted  into  swiichpt; 
A  nectar  which  the  gods  might  sipt- 
Or  pass  the  eulogizing  lip 

Of  whaling  Doctor  Mitchell. 

Come  with  thy  table  richly  spread, 
For  which  no  victim's  life  has  bled, 

Thy  green -corn  and  potatoes — 
Thy  blushing  cherries — melons  sweet, 
That  look  impatient  to  be  eat, 

And  temptingly  await  us. 

Come  with  thy  roses,  breathing  round 
A  fragrance  not  in  nature  found, 

Save  in  the  breath  of  beauty  ; 
Whose  teints  no  mortal  cheek  outvies, 
Save  hers  which  borrow*  from  the  skies, 

The  glow  of  Christian  duty. 

Come  with  thy  diadem  of  flowers, 
Queen  of  the  warm  prolific  powers 


POEMS.  113 

That  bring  forth  vegetation  ; 
And  let  thy  heavenly  breezes  blow. 
And  sweep  contagion  from  below, 

To  dead  annihilation. 

?Tis  true,  thy  bed-bugs,  flies  and  fleas. 
'Musquetoes,  wasps,  and  warlike  bees? 

Tormentingjy  assail  us — 
Bite,  sting,  and  suck  our  vital  gore^- 
Until  our  snarling  flesh  is  sore, 

And  rest  and  patience  fail'  us ; 

Eut  ev'ry  evil  has  its  good, 

And  though  we  loose  a  little  blood, 

Perhaps  'tis  all  the  better; 
Heaven  writes  on  rnis'ries  as  they  fall, 
A  saving  lesson  to  us  all. 

And  man  must  read  the  letter. 

But  hark  I  the  hoarse  loud  thunder  roars  ! 
From  heaven  the  rushing  rain  Hood  pours— <-  - 

The  vifid  lightning  fiashos! 

It  dims  my  sight i  drop  my  pen, 

The  frighten'd  mu^e^  cry  a-neri  — 

As  down  tae  torrent  dashes. 


114  POEMS. 

AUTUMN. 

LET  other  poets  flap  the  plume, 
TV  si  jr  and  sing;  of  "  Autumn's  g 

I  see  m>  mighty  reason 
"Why  Autumn,  if  improv'd  aright 
Is  not  as  pregnant  with  delight 

As  any  other  season. 


Spring,  like  a  fair  but  fickle  maid, 
Soon  changes  —  soon  begins  to  fade, 

Though  always  blitKe  and  charming; 
And  Winter,  wayward,  b'uff,  and  wild, 
Though  grey,  is  nothing  but  a  child, 

With  passions  oft  alarming. 

Summer  is  quite  enchanting,  too, 
Has  rosy  cheeks  —  nectareous  dew, 

But  then  the  earth  is  toasting 
With  such  insufferable  heat, 
As  if  mankind  were  made  to  eat, 

And  only  wanted  roasting. 

But  Autumn  comes,  serenely  gay, 
In  dress  more  lady-like  than  May—  ^ 

More  gaudy  hues  adorning; 
Belike  a  maidi-n  some  in  years, 
"Who  very  beautiful  appears, 

Fresh  painted  ev'ry  morning? 


POEMS.  ;11; 

To  yonder  forest  cast  your  eye, 
"With  rain-bow  tints  iier  colors  vie, 

And  full  as  transitory  ; 
For  ev'ry  breeze  of  heav'n  that  blows, 
Do',vns  down  some  trembling  signal  goes3 

Of  Autumn's  fading  glory. 

Yet  under  Fall's  auspfcious  reign. 
Health,  foil -fed,  bounds  along  the  plain, 

Wifh  plenty  for  the  morrow  ; 
While  gratitude  and  peace  unite, 
To  fill  the  soul  with  pu  e  delight, 

And  banish  ev'ry  sorrow. 
October, 


THE  WVY  TO  BE  HAPPY, 

DO  troubles  overwhelm  thy  soul, 

Like  billows  of  the  ocean, 
That  o'er  the  shipwrecked  victim  mil, 

In  terrible  commotion  ; 
Seize  bold  IMAGINATION'S  wing, 

And  soar  to  heav'n,  so  seeming, 
Or  reign  a  potentate  and  king — 

Tis  all  obtained  by— DREAMING. 

.Do  pain  and  poverty  u<iite 
^o  rob  thee  of  all  pleasure—- 


116  .POEMS. 

Like  thieves — break  in  at  dead  of  night, 

\nd  st«s.l  away  thy  treasure, 
Ti:e  treasure  of  a  tranquil  mind 

With  joy  and  rapture  teeming, 
Seek — seek,  my  friend   and  thou  shalt  fiud 

More  solid  joy  in — DREAMING. 

For  let  the  world  still  darker  frown 
Than  night-clouds  on  creation, 

And  show'r  its  ter/old  vengeance  down., 
Ifr  wrath  and  indignation, 

On  •••?«  devoted  head  of  mine, 
One  star  is  still  left  gleaming, 

One  light  that  will  forever  shine— 
The  hope — the  bliss  of  DREAMING. 

The  world  can  neither  £ive  nor  take 

Awav  *-ip«e  mental  riches; 
The1-'  -  i^inf — and  sleeping  or  awake, 

I  iov-  the  little  witches; 
Thev  charm  my  senses  to  repose, 

Wl«i)e  cares  and  want  arc  screaming, 
My  eves  and  ears  to  misYy  close, 

And  give  me  peace  in — DREAMING. 

"Whc ne'er  1  lay  me  down  to  rest, 

With  toils  and  sorrows  wear\  — 
A  heart  most  feelingly  distivst, 
on  earth  looka  dreary ; 


POEMS,  iir 

-Aerial  pow'rs  around  me  throng, 

With  light  and  glory  beaming. 
And  v/aft  in y  raptux'd  soul  along 

The  paradise  of— DREAMING. 

And  oft  as  pensively  I  walk 

In  solitary  places, 
1 1.--.1!-  celestial  spirits  talk, 

And  ihink  I  see  their  faces; 
They  bid  me  leave  all  earthly  things, 

AW  -'g-ief  are  streaming—' 

I  mou  .;  IMAGIXATION'S  wings, 

And  iliid  ray  heav'n  in— DREAMING. 

WOMAN. 

WHEN  Man  had  doom'd  himself  to  woes- 
Woes  that  forever  had  undone  him, 

And  God  in  wrathful  vengeance  rose 
To  execute  his  sentence  on  him, 

The  burning-  ire  of  opening  hell 

Burst  forth,  and  flames  were  kindling  round  him, 

But  angel's  tears  in  torrents  fell, 

And  quench'd  those  flames  where  justice  bound 
him. 

Tor  their  own  likeness,  by  his  side, 

In  all  the  loveliness  of  beauty, 
They  saw Vis  new  created  bride, 

Still  chaste,  though  wander'd  frai»  her  duty? 


118  POEMS. 

They  saw  that  MERCY,  too,  was  movMr- 
Prostrate  in  earnest  intercession ; 

Of  all  heaven's  host  the  well  belov'd, 
Self-ofter'd  up  for  man's  transgression. 

And  though  man's  woes  and  mis'ries,  all, 

Are  charg'd  on  woman,  who  ador'd  him ; 
If  Wtmian  tempted  man  to  fall, 

'Twas  fFomaw's  promis'd  seed  restor'd  him. 
O  WOMAN!  were  it  not  for  thee, 

With  all  thy  frailties  still  about  thee, 
Ihis  world  the  veriest  hell  would  bp, 

Jlnd  heaven  itself  no  heaven  without  thee. 


FIRE. 

DECEITFUL  demagogues  may  prate 
Their  warm  attachment  to  the  state, 

And  burn  with  party  ire  ; 
Give  me,  while  such  for  office  fi^ht, 
Domestic  peace,  a  mansion  tight, 

Health,  competence,  and  Fire. 

Let  belles  and  beaux,  poor  silly  souls, 
By  guilty  passion  scorch"d  to  coals, 

Inflames  of  IOVR  expire ; 
Give  me  of  friends  the  cheering  smile, 
With  ligneus  stores,  a  monstrous  pile? 

The  element  of  Fire. 


POEMS.  U9 

When  from  the  chilling  toils  of  day, 
The  lumbVing  sled,  or  pleasure  sleigh, 

\Ve  to  our  homes  retire ; 
To  warm  our  limbs,  prepare  our  food, 
How  welcome  is  a  stick  of  wood> 

How  charming  is  a  Fire! 

Men  haveaclurMthee,  well  they  might, 
Great  source  of  heat  !  great  source  of  light ! 

\\  horn  nations  all  admire; 
For,  void  of  thee,  would  earth  become 
Erivelop'd  in  eternal  gloom, 

Thou  glorious  orb  of  Fire/ 

No  Salamander  breed  I  boast, 
Nor  do  1  wish  myself  to  roast, 

Nor  is  it  my  desire 
To  live,  like  Tantalus,  within 
A  lake  tartarian  to  my  chin, 

Of  brimstone  and  of  Fire. 

Jso all  my  pray'r,  avoiding  this, 

(For  present  joys,  nor  future  bliss 

Is'o  Hindoo  rites  require) 
Is  with  that  heavenly  flame  to  glow, 
"Which  lights  the  good,  when  hence  they  go, 
To  shun  that  dreadful  pit  below, 

That  burns  with  endless  Firs. 
Feb.  1,  1816. 


im  POEM*. 

From  the  Plough  Bnrj. 

We  are  oblip^d  to  rwfriei'*.'  KAY  for  the  follow 
ing  elegant  effusion,  The  New-\ear$  Address  of 
The  Plough  Boy  was  from  the  same  pen.  We 
mention  this  fact  now,  because  that  poem,  which 
•was  excellent  of  its  kind,  was  attributed  to  another 
source  by  some  of  our  readers. 

SPRING. 

Written  in  May, 
LOOK  through  creation;  and  behold, 

The  wonders  oi' Almighty  pow?r; 
ETERNAL  WISDOM'S  works  unfold, 

In  ev'ry  leaf— in  evrry  flow'r: 
There  is  a  GOD,  all  good,  all  wise, 
The  very  meanest  insect  cries. 

Seasons  revolving  in  their  spheres} 

\  thousand  rural  beauties  bring, 
But  loveliest  of  the  group  appears, 

The  green-dress'd  beauty,  charming  Spring, 
The  music  of  whose  morning  voice, 
Bids  all  the  sons  of  earth  rejoice. 

Winter  is  death — when  Nature  mourns 

To  see  her  offspring:  l!feless  lie; 
Summer  and  Autumn  weep  by  turns, 

To  see  their  children  droop  and  die 5 
Bui  Spring  revives  their  hopes  again, 
And  breathes  new  life  through  ev'ry  vein. 


POEMS. 

How  emblematic  of  that  day, 
The  glorious  resurrection  morn, 

"When  deck'd  in  brighter  robes  than 
In  robes  that  angel  hosts  adorn, 

The  soul  redeem'd  shall  burst  its  tomb, 

And  in  immortal  glory  bloom. 


EIGHTEEN  HUNDRED  TWENTY'. 

THE  CARRIER  OF  THE  PLOUGH  BOY  TO  HIS  PATRONS, 

YOUR  faithful  CARRIER  of  the  News, 

For  publisher  and  printer, 
"Who  cheerfully  his  route  pursues 

Through  all  the  storms  of  Winter, 
Salutes  you  with  a  hearty  wish 

That  CASH  may  be  more  plenty, 
And  brings  you  a  poetic  dish 

For  EIGHTEEN  HUNDRED  T\YEXTY, 

As  viewless?  time,  in  swift  career, 

Still  driving  on  his  stages, 
Has  wheel'd  along  another  year, 

The  youngest  born  of  ajjes, 
So  let  us  freely  speed  the  way 

That  brings  us  joy  and  plenty, 
And  join  to  hail  the  New- Year's  day 

Of  EIGHTEEN   HUNDRED  TWENTF. 

L    2 


POEMS. 

Thrice  happy  is  the  Plough  "Boy's  lot 

Above  all  other  stations — 
Lord  of  the  soil — a  snug  warm  cot, 

Well  stor'd  with  wholesome  rations, 
He  reigns  sole  monarch  of  his  home, 

With  friends  around  him  plenty, 
And  joins  to  hail  the  year,  that's  come, 

Of  EIGHTEEN  HUNDRED  TWENTY. 

He  scorns  those  plodding  sprites  of  state — • 

Ambition,  Honours,  Riches, 
That  haunt  and  ride  the  would-be  great. 

Worse — worse  than  Salem  witches ; 
But  seated  in  his  elbow  chair, 

With  friends  and  cider  plenty, 
He  plans  the  Show,  and  toasts  the  Fair. 

Of  EIGHTEEN  HUNDRED  TWENTY. 

Through  this  and  ev?ry  future  year3 

May  happiness  attend  you — 
Kind  PROVIDENCE  no  blasted  ear, 

No  dearths  or  mildews  send  you— 
But — seeds  of  peace  and  virtue  sown, 

Produce  a  crop  of  plenty, 
And  SICKNESS  ne'er  be  heard  to  groan, 

In  EIGHTEEN  HUNDRED  TWENTY. 

And  as  the  times  press  sore  and  hard 
On  ail  concerned  hi 


POEMS. 

Their  oft,  and  almost  sole  reward, 
Embarrassment,  distresses — 

The  life'ral,  friendly,  and  the  JMst, 
Who  'iave  the  shiners  plenty. 

Will  spare  a  !if!e  CHINK,  I  trust, 

For  EIGHTEEN  HUNDRED  TWENTY, 


SPRING. 

Written  in  1816, 

Lo  !  Winter's  fierce  embattled  clouds, 
That  rush'd  in  gloomy  sable  crowds* 

Before  the  driving  blast, 
O'er  the  veil'd  visage  of  the  Sun, 
Who  swiftly  seem'd  himself  to  run, 

And  dread  them  as  he  pass'd, 

Are  gone— dissoh'd  in  melting  snevrs  j 
And  the  same  rill  that  lisping  flows, 

Once  saii'd  in  yonder  sky — 
In  vapors  clad  its  fancy  form, 
Till  crush'd  amidst  the  grinding  storm> 

It  rain'd  down  from  on-high. 

Burst  are  the  chains  that  lately  bound5 
And  lo!  th'  emancipated  ground 
Her  independence  feels  f 


U4  POEMS. 

And  smiling  with  intense  delight; 
Like  morning  breaking  fiom  the  night, 
Creative  pow'r  reveals. 

The  liberated  rivers  flow, 

And  conscious  forests  laugh  to  know 

Their  species  are  set  free 
From  tyrant  Winter  ; — ami,  again 
Bounds  the  white  blood  through  ev'ry  vein, 

Of  ev'ry  joyous  tree. 

Brisk  robin  redbreast  first  appears; 
Her  presence  banishes  the  fears, 

Which  snow  birds  might  prolengV- 
She  wafts  us,  on  her  golden  wing, 
The  tidings  in  the  breath  of  Spring,- 

And  hails  it  with  a  song. 

The  vegetable  kingdoms  own 
Allegiance  to  no  other  throne, 

O 

Than  where  th'  ALMIGHTY  reigns  j 
To  him  their  tender  hands  they  raiseB 
In  silent,  but  expressive  praise, 

O'er  all  the  adoring  plains. 

Reanimated  flies  and  worms, 

Of  twice  ten  thousand  diff 'rent  forms, 

From  tombs  of  frost  arise  ; 
Throw  off  their  grave-clothes,  and  appear, 
To  witness,  that  the  new  born  year, 

Is  lent  us  from  the  skies. 


FOEMS.  12$ 


And  shall  ungrateful  man,  for  whom 
Earth  teems  with  fruits,  and  Edens  b!o 

No  thankful  offerings  bring? 
Join,  then,  ye  grov'iing  slaves  of  pride, 
To  dust,  to  worms,  to  Heaven  allied, 

And  bless  the  GOD  of  SPRING. 


THE  PLOUGH  BOY  AND  THE  DANDY. 
A  FABLE. 

Some  saj  there's  nothing  made  in  vain, 
While  others  the  reverse  maintain, 

And  prove  it  verj  handy, 
By  citing  animals  like  these-— 
Musquetoes,  bed-bugs,  crickets,  fleas, 

And,  worse  than  all — a  DAXDY  ! 

But  Nature  never  made  the  last ; 
In  some  factitious  muuld  was  cast, 

A  thing  which  all  outmatches; 
Or  from  a  tailor's  shop  let  loose, 
UatchM  out  ovipVous  from  his  goose. 

Among  his  cabt/age  patches. 

One  of  these  insects  chancM  to  meet 
A  robust  Plough  Boy  in  the  street — 
(Tv/as  very  muddy  weather,) 


The  Farmer  dodg'd — the  Dandy  too — 
And  both  one  way — what  should  they  do* 
Hut  run  up  smack  together. 

Down  went  the  Dandy  in  the  mud, 

For  know  that  mortal  flesh  and  blood 
Outweighs  a  slim  rag  baby; 

And  'tis  in  balancing  a  law, 

That  bones  are  heavier  much  than  straw— 
As  easy  prov'd  as  may  be. 

The  Dandy,  all  besmear'd  with  di-t, 
Gloves,  clean  wash'd  vest,  and  rufflM  shiri, 

Flew  in  a  furious  passion — 
Curs'd — swore — and  picking  np  his  cane, 
Essay'd  to  crack  the  Plough  Boy's  brain, 

In  mighty  genteel  fashion. 

The  Farmer  warded  off*  the  blows, 
And  seizing  Dandy  by  the  nose, 

Gave  it  a  dreadful  twisting; 
Then  flung  him  flat  upon  his  back, 
In  spite  of  many  a  fierce  attack, 

And  all  his  vain  resisting — 

Together  tied,  with  skins  of  eels, 
The  struggling  biped's  muddy  heels, 

A  dread  to  fops  hereafter — 
Drag^'d  him  along — head  downwards,  took 
And  hung  him  on  a  sign-post  hook — 

A  spectacle  for  laughter. 


POEMS. 


We  hope  that  Dandies,  after  this, 
May  warning  take  —  for  hit  or  miss, 

They  must  pull  down  their  banners- 
Must  strike  to  homespun  common  sense, 
Must  doff  their  peak  of  insolence, 

And  practise  better  manners. 

POKER  &  Ct, 


THE  HILL  AND  HOLLOW* 
"WHEN  people  seek  a  building  scite, 

For  business  whidh  they  follow, 
Some  choose  a.  Hill — exactly  right, 

And  some  prefer  a  Hollow  ; 
And  so  it  is,  go  where  you  will, 
Some  like  a  hollow — some  a  hill 

The  youthful  poet,  first  begins 
Vallonio?*  streams  to  swallow  ; 

She  lf»adshiin  till  he  breaks  his  shins, 
O'e>  Satyrs,  in  th»»  hollow; 

He  then  attempts  to  cli.uh  the  hill, 

Where  the  nine  Muses  have  a  rill. 


*  In  order  to  erirp  these  1'nei  a  more  forcibl-  application,  it  is  n#tes> 
•try  for  the  reader  t»br  »'  MM  ••',  "f  '.e  s  ii^inra- •  cr  :t.  liat  fhrre  is,  IB 
the  caunfy  .-f  )H  .  g--.  r\»o  •!>•'••, so-ne  v  li  g*  s.  \\  h  .  r,  m  ]*>  of  each 
•iher,  eue  faiUd  Oie  "  HILL,'  juul  tUe  ouier  tiie  ••  JUOLLCAV," 


128  POEMS. 

But  meets  in  the  Parnassian  road, 
Which  bards  of  fame  all  follow, 

Huge  rivals,  who  his  verse  explode, 
And  kick  him  to  the  hollow  ; 

Where  he  remains,  to  dip  his  bill 

In  puddles  which  descend  the  Hill. 

The  politician,  just,  and  wise 

A.S  Minos  or  Apollo, 
Essays  the  hill  of  fame  to  rise, 

But  slides  back  to  the  huliow  ; 
Because  he  strove  to  mount  the  hill, 
Repugnant  to  the  people**  will. 

The  Christian  leaves  his  humble  way, 

The  paths  of  sin  to  follow. 
Soon  as  he  finds  himself  astray, 

Will  seek  again  the  hollow— 
Will  leave  the  bleak  and  boisterous  hiU» 
Of  strife  and  passion,  pride  and  will* 

The  youth  who  courts  dishonest  fame, 

Whatever  he  may  follow, 
Wrill  find  his  pathway  end  in  shame— 

A  swamp—a  miry  hollow  ; 
Then  let  him  flounce,  howe'er  he  will, 
Hard  will  it  be  to  gain  the  hill. 

The  benuteous  maid,  whose  soul  is  love, 
With  cautious  steps  should  follow, 


POEMS. 

Where  wily  men  of  pleasure  move,,. 

The  fopling's  heart  is  hollow; 
'Twere  better  your  life-blood  to  spill, 
Than  trundle,  witha-rak«,  dosvn  hill. 

When  in  prosperity,  our  friends 
Will  like  a  house-dog  follow; 

But  when  adversity  descends, 
And  sweeps  us  to  the  hollow, 

Wdl  any  help  you  up  the  hill? 

Yes — scorn  and  persecution  will. 

Life  is  at  best  a  thorny  vale, 
Where  hissing  serpents  wallow, 

Where  beasts  of  prey  our  peace  assail- 
A  dreary  pathless  hollow  ! 

A  ragged,  barren,  rocky  hill, 

Prolific,  though,  of  human  ill. 

Yet  wheresoe'er  our  lot  is  cast, 

Let  us  our  duty  follow, 
'Twill  waft  us  to  a  hill  at  last, 

Above  an  awful  hollow, 
To  drink  of  endless  bliss,  our  fill, 
,F.or  Heav'n  is  cali'd  a  Holy  Hill. 

M 


130  POEMS. 

THE  GRAND  CANAL. 

Written  in  1816. 

Th'  ALMIGHTY  ARCHITECT,  above, 
In  boundless  wisdom — boundless  love, 

liatli  meted,  with  a  span, 
A  checker'd  map  of  earth  and  seas, 
And  said,  '-go  thou  inherit  these, 

"Apostate  creature  man!" 

"  Thine  are  the  waters,  thine  the  lanfl, 
"Subdue,  control, direct,  command, 

"  And  to  thy  use  apply— 
"The  lakes,  the  rivers,  mountains,  plains, 
"All  the  stupendous  globe  contains, 

"  And  all  th'  involving  sky." 

The  loud  OMNIPOTENT  behest, 

In  thunder  came — in  lightning  dress'd^ 

And  man  was  taught  to  know 
Both  good  and  evil — doom'd  to  toil, 
To  scour  the  ocean,  break  the  soil, 

Though  lord  of  all  below. 

To  agriculture,  soon  succeeds 
More  bold  and  enterprising  deeds, 

And  commerce  wing'd  her  stores; 
Nations  were  call'd  to  mutual  marts, 
Fancy  and  want  invented  arts, 

And  mines  produc'd  their  ores. 


POEMS*  13.1 

If  rivers  have  been  turn'd  aside, 
Wnen  potent  man  was  seen  to  chide, 

And  stem  the  torrent  wave ; 
If  ocean,  formidable,  wild, 
Now  tam'd,  and  conquer'd  by  a  child, 

Is  man-s  obedient  slave  ; 

If  mountains  have  been  made  to  bend. 
That  pow'rful  armies  might  ascend, 

And  Babel's  tow'rs  to  rise ; 
If  lofty  Pyramids  are  seen, 
To  show  what  mortals  once  have  been, 

And  mock  Egyptian  skies  ; 

If  human  skill,  and  human  might, 

Have  brought  mysterious  worlds  to  light, 

And  rein'd  the  shafts  of  hcav'n — 
Explored  the  path  where  planets  run, 
And  clasp'd  the  circle  of  the  sun, 

As  to  a  Newton  giv'n ; 

What  untried  efforts  yet  remain* 
To  break  the  intellectual  chain 
That  tow'ring  genius  binds  ; 
To  burst  the  shell  of  brooding  thought, 
"Whose  unfledg'd  ignorance  is  sough  t» 
And  where  the  seeker  finds; 

Let  Clinton's  mental  powVs  unfold; 
Who  first  conceiv'd  the  project  bold, 


POEMS. 


To  bid  the  western  floods 
Revolt  from  nature's  long  control, 
Freely  through  new-mark'd  regions  roll,  , 

And  leave  th'  astonish'd  woods. 

Immortal  be  the  statesman's  name, 
Eternal  be  the  patriot's  fame, 

Who  shall  mature  the  plan! 
And  draw  those  oceans  from  the  west, 
To  bathe  th'  Vlantic's  heaving  breast,. 

A  monument  to  man! 

Bold  is  th'  attempt,  and  wise  the  scheme, 
August  the  work,  sublime  the  theme, 

May  list'ning  millions  hear  ; 
And  unborn  ages  share  the  prize, 
Long  as  the  sun  is  known  to  rise, 

Or  stars  in  heaven  appear. 


POEMS.  13* 

From  Hi?  Onondaga  Gazette,  1816. 

A  customer  in  Spajj'ord,  has  entered  a  seriouft 
complaint  to  the  Editor  of  this  paper,  arid  re 
quested  him  to  tak e  poetical,  (not  official}  notice 
ot  certain  etiquette  now  in  lull  vo,me  amongst 
t!:e  beaux  of  that  town.  As  we  wUh  to  gratify 
our  patrons  by  every  means  within  our  reach, 
and  every  effort  in  our  power,  we  really  hope  the 
young  gentlemen  and  ladies  will  pardon  us  for 
any  seeming  improprieties  in  the  following  dis 
charge  of  our  duty. 

THE  COMPLAINT. 
A  CORRESPONDENT  much  complains, 
That  recently  our  country  swains 

Are  growing  so  polite, 
They  cannot  let  the  sabbath  pass, 
Without  gallanting  home  a  lass 

From  meeting,  day  or  night* 

He  say^  in  old  Connecticut 
'Tis  not  the  practice — therefore,  but 
A  scand'lous '  calculation;' 

For  there  they  let  the  ladies  go 
Alnm  through  rainstorms,  mud  or  snow, 
To  work  their  own  salvation. 

But  pray,  my  friend,  where  is  the  harm, 
In  taking  hold  a  lady's  arm, 

Aud  walking  home  from  meeting  ? 
M  2 


134  POEMS. 

Provided  nothing  ill  they  touch, 
It  certainly  cannot  be  such 
A  crime  as  merits  beating. 

In  old  Connecticut,  'tis  true, 

"Where  laws,  as  well  as  lights  are  blue— 

The  land  of «  steady  habits'— 
On  pain  of  fines,  no  person  may 
Gallant  the  girls,  a  sabbath  day, 

Tho'  round  him  thick  as  rabbits. 

But  here,  the  laws  are  not  so  bad, 
//ere,  ev'ry  loving  lass  and  lad 

May  bend  or  break  the  Sunday  ; 
For  many,  strange  as  it  may  seem, 
The  day  of  no  importance  deem, 

As  different  from  Monday. 

Yet,  did  they  practise  nothing  worse, 
And  follow  other  things  of  course—, 

Abominable  sporting  ; 
The  crime,  perhaps,  were  not  so  great 
As  Hartford  treason  'gainst  the  state, 

To  do  a  little  courting. 

Against  politeness  is  th*  offence, 
This  is  our  customer's  pretence, 

And  be  it  so  awarded  ; 
Politeness,  then,  to  thee  I  bow, 
But  cannot,  for  my  life,  see  how 

Thy  forms  arc  disregarded. 


POEMS.  135 

And  if,  in  this  enlightened  land, 
To  '  lead  a  sister  by  the  hand,7 

Be  deem'd  an  act  uncivil — 
A  deed  unholy  and  unclean, 
Few,  'tis  much-fear'd  will  'scape  between 

The  world,  the  flesh,  and  devil. 


1R    OM  A  MAN  ON  THE  EARTH  TO  THE 

MAN  IN  THE  MOON. 
FROM  childhood  to  age  have  I  watch'd  thee,  my 

friend, 

Careering  aloft  through  the  skies; 
Through  night's  beaming  splendors  have  seen  thee 

descend, 
To  darkness — and  seen  thee  arise. 

Magnificent,  bright,  midst  an  army  of  stars, 
To  march  through  the  heavens  again, 

Attended  by  meteors  in  ether-built  cars, 
A  brilliant,  immaculate  train. 

What  regions  of  glory  thine  eye  must  explore, 

UnditnM  by  the  shadows  of  time; 
What  gulfs  of  thick  darkness  thy  chariot  bound  o'er* 

What  heaven-daring  Andes  sublime, 

Vouchsafe,  mighty  giant,  to  drop  me  a  line, 
By  moon-beams  that  steal  round  my  bed  ; 


156  POEMS. 

Or  tell  them  fo  whisper,  in  dreams  half  divine. 
The  secrets  that  puzzle  my  head. 

Dost  thou,  in  thy  wand 'rings,  the  Pleiades  meet, 

An  j  iv-?t  on  the  neck  of  the  bull ; 
To  catch  solar  splendors,  where'er  they  retreat; 

Till  Cynthia  her  horn  gathers  full? 

Or  dost  thou  Arcturus  accost  in  thy  way, 

And  ask  of  Orion  what  news?. 
Re-light  up  thy  lamp  at  the  candle  of  day, 

"When  all  other  candles  refuse  ? 

Art  thou  the  sole  monarch  of  that  whirling  ball, 
£*  That  wheels  thee  so  dizzy  alons;  ? 
Or  what  do  the  Moonites,  in  their  lingo,  call 
The  hero  and  theme  of  my  song? 

Do  people,  if  peop'e  there  are  in  the  moon, 

Walk  upright,  or  go  on  all  fours  ? 
And  have  they  long  tails,  like  the  rakish  baboon, 

And  some  politicians  of  ours  ? 

Do  ladies  there  dress  in  their  plume  shaded  crapes, 

So  volatile,  chirping  and  fair, 
"Were  H  not  for  their  size,  and  their  half  human 
shapes, 

You'd  take  them  for  birds  of  the  air? 

And  hast  thou  a  creature  no  other  world  ha*, 
Except  our  terrestrial  one  here, 


POEMS. 

A  species  whose  likeness  before  never  was, 
And  never  again  may  appea»  — 

In  all  thy  wild  rambles  by  Hay  or  by  night, 

Aerial,  by  land  or  by  sea, 
Hasi  thou  ever  seen  such  a  terrible  si°;'it— - 

Are  there  any  DANDIES  with  thee? 


VILL\GE  GREATNESS, 

In  ev'ry  country  village,  where 

Ten  chimney  smokes  perfume  the  air,. 

Contiguous  to  a  steeple, 
Great  gentlefolks  are  found,  a  score* 
"W  o  can't  associate,  any  more, 

With  common  '  country  people.9 

Jack  Fallow,  born  amongst  the  woods* 
From  rolling  loirs,  now  rolls  in  goods, 

Enough  a  while  to  dash  on— 
Tells  negro-stories — smokes  segars— » 
Talks  politics — decides  on  wars— 
And  lives  in  stylish  fashion. 

Tim  Ox-goad,  lately  from  the  plough^ 
A  polish, d  gentleman  is  now, 

And  talks  of  *  country  fellows  ? 
But  ask  the  fop  what  books  he's  read— 
You'll  find  the  brain-pan  of  bis  head*. 

As  empty  as  a  bellows. 


138  POEMS. 

JV/jss  Faddle,  lately  from  the  wheel, 
IV  ^ins  quite  lady-like  to  feel, 
And  talks  affectedly  genteel, 

And  sings  some  tasty  songs,  too  ? 
B'it  my  veracity  impeach, 
If  she  can  tell  what  part  of  speech,. 

Gentility  belongs  to* 

"Without  one  spark  of  wit  refin'd, 
"Without  one  beauty  of  the  mind- 
Genius  or  education, 
Or  family,  or  fame,  to  boast, 
To  see  such  gentry  rule  the  toast, 
Turns  patience  to  vexation. 

To  clear  such  rubbish  from  the  earth, 
Though  real  genius — mental  worth, 

And  science  to  attend  you, 
You  might  as  well  the  sty  n  fine, 
Or  cast  your  pearls  before  the  swine. 

They'd  only  turn  and  rend  you, 


POEMS.  13$ 

The  following  was  written  after  a  severe  thunder 
stoiin  on  a  very  sultry  night  in  August,  at  the 
full  of  the  moon,  and  when  we  had  had  a  thick 
smoky  atmosphere,  in  a  very  dry  time. 

The  sun  set  in  fire,  and  the  moon  rose  in  blood, 
The.  stars  they  look'd  pale  at  the  sight ; 

Aud  ne'er  since  the  time  of  the  world-drowning 

flood, 
Was  felt  a  more  comfortless  nigbt. 

A  black  giant-cloud  show'd  his  head  in  the  west, 
And  rearing  his  mountain-like  form, 

'Midst  dread  gleaming  lightnings  that,flashM  fro» 

his  breast, 
In  thunder  announced,  that  a  storm 

Was  marching  apace  through  the  fields  of  the 'air* 

With  all  hisartill'ryathand; 
And  soon  we  perceiv'd,  by  the  lightning's  red  glare, 

It  mov'd  as  his  winds  gave  coaunaLd. 

The  moon  travell'd  on,  unappall'd  at  the  scene, 

Like  virtue  intrepid  and  calm, 
1  Who  knows  that  the*word  of  affliction  is  keen, 
And  has  for  the  wounded  a  balm. 

To  shun  the  dark  conflict  she  ne'er  turn'd  aside. 

But  faced  it — and  firmly  pursued 
The  path  which  her  Maker  has  markM  out  so  wide, 

>>ith  star-gems  abundant!) 


140  POEMS. 

And  now  the  whole  firmament  wrapp'd  in  a  flam* , 

And  rolling  its  thunders  below, 
Appear'd  as  if  Nature,  dissolving,  her  frame, 

Would  sink  us  to  fathomless  wo ! 

But  mark  how  kind  Providence  shapes  his  decrees—* 
The  tempest  quite  harmless  pass'd  o'er — 

The  much-wanted  rain  fell  in  floods— and  the  breeze 
Brought  health  where  'twas  sickness  before. 


"THE  HIVE." 

Near  the  lake  of  Skaneateles,  there  is  a  Friends5 
Female  Boarding  School  called  "  The  Hive" — 
conducted  by  Mrs.  LYDIA  P.  MOTT,  Mr.  CALEB 
MEKEEL,  and  Miss  SARAH  M.  UNDERBILL;  to 
w!  om  this  tribute  of  respect  is  feelingly  address- 
cd. 

AROUND  thy  shores,  delightful  lake, 

What  beauteous  prospects  lie  ! 
And  thy  calm  waves  a  mirror  make, 

Reflecting  eanh  and  sky. 

Thy  green-clad  banks  that  gently  slope, 

And  scarce  forbid  t  y  flow, 
Seem  heaving  like  the  breast  of  Hope, 

Wash'd  by  the  floods  of  wo. 


The  rich  luxuriant  hills  and  plains, 
.And  circumjacent  groves, 


POEMS. 

•A  landscape  form  that  woosand  gains 
The  graces  and  the  loves. 

But  'midst  the  bright  enchanting  scenes 

That  cluster  round  thy  shores, 
There's  one — the  field  where  beauty  gleans 

Her  scientific  stores, 

More  lovely  far  than  all  the  rest 

That  on  thy  borders  thrive — 
The  little  humming'  honied  nest, 

So  rightly  named  "  Ttie  Hive^ 

Thither  full  many  a  mother's  heart 

Is  carried  with  her  child ; 
And  there  each  profitable  arc, 

Instil!' d  with  precepts  mild, 

Is  gathered  from  those  tender  flowers 

That  in  perfection  bloom, 
Where  genius  buds — and  heavenly  showers 

Exhale  a  rich  perfim;e. 

That  no  rude  hand  may  pluck  the  fruit 
Tho3(>  charming  bezs  may  bring  ; 

No  parent's  heart  detest  the  brute 
That  wounds  it  with  a  sting:, 

Ye  sentinels  who  watch  tha  .: 
The  sacrc:!  treasures  guard — 

cvVy  yo.  .  •  a  i 

And  heaven  is  your  rev 
N 


142  POEMS. 

FALSE  FRIENDSHIP. 

THE  man  who  styles  himself  my  friend, 

And  quits  me  in  disaster, 
Is  worse  than  perfidy's  fag-end, 

To  thus  betray  his  master ; 
Than  such  a  friend,  th'  Almighty  knows, 
I'd  rather  have  ten  thousand  foes. 

What  is  he  like  ? — A  fawning  cat, 
Which  purrs  for  your  caresses, 

But  leaves  you. when  he  smells  a  rat 
In  midst  of  deep  distresses  ; 

Nay  lacerates  with  teeth  and  claws, 

The  hand  that  pats  him  with  applause. 

What  is  he  like  ? — The  glozing  snake. 
That  charms  his  feather'd  gazer, 

Whose  only  object  is  to  make 
A  victim  of  his  praiser ; 

Down  drops  the  bird  with  feeble  cries, 

An  unresisting  sacrifice. 

What  is  he  like  ? — His  own  dark  sUadea 
Seen  but  in  sunshine  weather, 

Of  vanity's  reflections  made, 
And  something  like  a  feather; 

At  evVy  adverse  breeze  that  blows, 

Round — round  he  flies—  away  he  goes. 


POEMS.  143 

What  is  lie  like?— The  crafty  fox, 

Who  cSaim'd  to  be  defender 
Of  unsuspecting  chicken  flocks, 

When  lo,  the  base  pretender, 
To  make  his  declarations  good, 
Wrbips  off  their  heads  and  sucks  their  blood. 

What  is  he  like?— That  grim  old  elf, 

Who  flatterd  Mrs.  Adam 
To  damn  her  husband  arid  herself, 

(A  very  pretty  madam  :) 
'Twas  friendship's  false  beguiling  arts, 
First  gave  the  world  such  aching  hearts. 

And  what  is  Woman's  friendship  like, 

That  fairest  of  all  creatures  ? 
Digust  it  never  fails  to  strike, 

It*  treachery  mark  its  features; 
'Tis  like  a  spirit  of  disgrace-— 
A  demon  with  an  angel  face. 


144  POEMS. 


not  away  that  life  you  cannot  give:; 
For  all  things  have  an  equal  rlglt  to  live. 

DB.YDEU. 
REMORSE, 

On  killing  a  squirrel  in  a  garret. 
RASH  was  the  hand  and  foul  the  deed, 

That  gave  thee,  thus  to  death  a  prey  , 
Oh  !  I  could  weep  to  see  thee  bleed, 

And  pant  thy  gasping  life  away. 

What  hndst  thou  done  to  merit  death, 

But  gather  for  a  future  day  ? 
Just  to  prolong  thy  little  breath  ; 

And  yet  I  took  thy  life  away. 

For  thou  no  wealth  or  fame  didst  crave- 

No  costly  food,  or  clothing  gay; 
But  only  sought  thy  life  to  save, 

And  yet  I  took  thy  life  away. 

Poor  little  thing  !  how  hard  it  strove 
To  shun  the  blows,  as  hid  it  lay  ; 

But  all  could  not  my  pity  move, 
I  took  its  trembling  life  away. 

Oh  !  how  inhospitably  vile  ! 

It  came,  a  stranger,  here  to  stay, 
To  cat  arid  drink,  and  live  awhile, 

But  I  have  torn  Us  life  away. 


POEMS.  145 

Too  late  I  now  repent  the  blow, 
Tis  stiff,  alas  !  and  cold  as  clay  ! 

Its  life  to  me  it  did  not  owe, 
And  yet  I  took  its  life  away. 

That  Pow'r  which  gave  all  Nature  law, 
Whose  summons  we  must  all  obey, 

Gave  thee  thy  vital  breath  to  draw, 
And  yet  I  took  that  breath  away. 

'Whether  thou  hast  a  mate  to  moan, 
Or  offspring  dear,  ah  !  who  can  say? 

No  harm  to  me  thou  e'er  hadst  done, 
And  yet  I  took  thy  life  away. 

What  millions  do  mankind  destroy, 
Of  their  own  race,  for  pow'r  or  pay  ! 

Some  would  have  kept  thee  for  a  toy  ; 
But  I  have  toy  ?d  thy  life  away. 

And  if  for  this,  remorse  I  feel, 

If  conscience  sting,  ah  !  what  must  they 

Endure,  who  wide  destruction  deal, 

And  take  the  life  of  man  away. 
Oct.  1S08. 


N 


346  POEMS. 

TO  THE  BARD  OF  PHILADELPHIA, 

JHw  has  so  highly  gratified  the  public  ivith  a  poet 
ical  sarcasm  on  the  "  Solar  spots." 

Go  wond'rous  creature !    mount   where    science 

guides, 

Go,  measure  earth,  weigh  air,  and  stem  the  tides; 
Instruct  the  planets  in  what  course  to  run, 
Correct  old  Time,  and  regulate  the  sun  ! 
Go,  teach  ETERNAL  WISDOM  how  to  rule, 
Then  drop  into  thyself,  and  be  a  fool. 

POPE. 

GO,  impious  mortal !  merry  make, 
And  place  thy  deathless  soul  at  stake, 

Against  a  little  fun! 
With  all  the  pop-guns  of  thy  wit, 
No  other  subject  couldst  thou  hit, 

Than  «  spots  upon  the  sun  r> 

That  glorious  orb  of  light  and  heat, 
Why  like  a  foot-ball  kick  and  beat  ? 

And  with  a  school-boy  caper, 
Disportive,  hurl  it  all  at  once, 
To  strike  the  head  of  ev'ry  dunce, 

In  ev'ry  village  paper  ? 

How  durst  thou  ridicule  the  cause, 
Which  seems  to  intercept  those  laws 

EstablishM  at  creation  ? 
And  with  a  dull,  sarcastic  stroke, 
Heav'n's  wonders  turn  into  a  joke- 
Ail  idiot's  admiration? 


POEMS. 

Docs  not  prophetic  scripture  say, 
Before  the  last  great  judgment  day, 

The  stars  of  heav'n  shall  fall? 
The  sun  be  darkened,  awful  noorr! 
At  which  dread  sight,  the  fainting  moon 

Shall  lose  her  lustre  all? 

Shall  thy  presumptuous  tongue,  or  pen, 
Scoff  at  those  things  beyond  thy  ken 

Or  knowledge  to  unriddle  ? 
Go,  prostitute  Apollo's  lyre, 
And  court  the  muses  to  inspire 

Thee  how  to  play  the  fiddle. 

As  once  a  fox-  so  fable  goes, 

Address'd  a  crow  (bards  then  were  crows) 

Her  voice  and  plumage  praising, 
The  silly  bird,  who  held  her  prey 
"Within  her  beak,  struck  up  a  lay, 

While  Reynard  stood  a  gazing — 

Down  dropp'd  the  prize — the  flatt'rer  seiz'e* 
The  precious  morsel,  and  well  pleas  M 

At  Mrs.  Crow's  vexation, 
Left  her  this  counsel  : — "  Never  try 
With  birds  of  melody  to  vie, 

But  keep  m  your  own  station." 


is:  POEMS: 

LAW. 

Assist  ye  Furies,  while  I  draw 
A  just  similitude  of  Law, 

I  court  no  other  Muses  ; 
Your  inspiration  answers  best, 
To  sing  the  most  confounded  pest, 

A  mortal  ever  chuses. 

Law  is  like  longitude,  about, 
Never  completely  yet  found  out, 

Though  practisVl  notwithstanding ; 
'Tis  like  the  fatalist's  strange  creed, 
Which  justifies  a  wicked  deed, 

While  sternly  reprimanding. 

'Tis  like  a  lott'ry,  with  a  prize 
Less  than  the  ticket  cost,  how  wise-* 

And  keen  a  speculation  ! 
Or  like  a  blank,  when  all  is  lost, 
Time,  reputation,  debt  and  cost, 

Th' effects  of  litigation. 

'Tis  also  like  a  game  of  chance, 
(Must  pay  the  fiddler  those  who  dance) 

The  gainer  is  the  loser; 
'Tis  something  like  a  hornet's  nest, 
Which  foolish  roguish  boys  molest. 

But  stings  a  great  deal  closer. 


POEMS. 

?Tis  like  a  net,  constructed  so 
As  to  allow  great  rogues  to  go, 

While  petty  one?  it  hampers; 
JTis  like  the  clutches  of  a  bear, 
*Tis  like  the  hounds  that  chase  a  hare,  - 

Which  innocently  scampers, 

And  finds  his  rescue  in  a  £rave, 
As  many  guiltless  DEBTORS  have, 

From  ruthless  persecution  : — 
JTis  like  your  humble  servant's  song. 
Dull,  dry,  which  you  may  think  too  long,  - 

And  wish  far  a  conclusion. 

-Tis  like  a  thousand  other  things, 

With  tails,  and  claws,  and  teeth,  and  stings/ 

T'  annoy  and  overpovrr  us, 
But  of  all  forms  it  ever  took, 
Laws  SAL'RY  most  like  Satan  lookj 

Aad  threaten  to  devour  u=, 


150  POEMS. 

"  When  men  of  infamy  to  grandeur  soar, 

"  They  light  a  torch  to  show  their  shame  the  more.*** 

TOM  EAGLE. 

TOM  EA.GLE  was  a  man  of  pelf, 

An  artful  speculator; 
"Who  money  prized,  and  lov'd  himself, 

Much  more  than  his  Creator ; 
And  shap'd  his  principle!  to  suit . 
His  purse  and  passions what  a  brute  ? 

Says  he,  "  although  I  fear  not  God, 

"  Nor  yet  regard  my  neighbor, 
"No  longer  will  I  break  the  sod'' — 

(For  EAGLE  hated  labor) 
"No  longer  clear  away  the  woods, 
"But  cultivate  my  taste  for  goods." 

To  purchase  them,  away  he  goes, 

While  many  people  said  it, 
Although,  perhaps,  nobody  knows, 

His  capital  was  credit; 
flis  credit  like  a  toadstool  grew 
From  filth  around  it — which  it  drew*. 

Clownish,  and  ignorant,  but  keen 

To  lie  or  tell  a  story, 
He  hung,  in  politics,  between 

A  democrat  and  tory  ; 
In  every  dish  he  had  his  spoon, 
And  chang'd  as  often  as  the  moon, 


POEMS.  05.1 

By  dint  of  smuggling,  knavish  v.iles ; 

And  dittos  oft  repeated — 
Cringing  and  sycophantic  smiles, 

And  treating  those  he  cheated, 
Pow'r  and  importance  soun  began, 
To  raise  from  dirt  the  little  man. 

Among  a  harmless  flock  of  geese, 

The  fox  is  often  stealing  ; 
EAGLE  was  made  a  Justice  Peace, 

To  gratify  his  feeling  ; 
FedVal,  republican,  or  quid, 
As  times  turn'd  round,  so  EAGLE  did. 

And  thus  walk'd  on  through  ev'ry  grade 

Of  lucrative  promotion  ; 
For  offices  are  public  trade, 

And  merit  but  a  notion  ; 
While  evVy  pop'lar  party  tool, 
Is  one  or  both — a  knave  or  fool. 


PERPETUAL  MOTION. 
STR  \NGE  things  in  Pennsylvania  state, 
Havehappen'd  (papers  say)  of  late, 

Amongst  the  rest  a  notion, 
That  nature  has  divulg'd  her  (a\vs, 
And  gU  n  the  pnr,ip!  •>  and  cause 
eretuai  Motion. 


152  POEMS. 

Behold. the  great  men  gravely  mei, 
A  Ican/ci  and  philosophic  set 

As  ever  came  together, 
T'  inspect  old  Redheffer's  machine, 
And  find  the  difference  between 

A  hair-spring  and  a  feather! 

Wond'ring  what  Rcdheffer  is  at, 
While  long  assembled,  hear  them  chat. 

And  hum  like  bees  a  hiving  ; 
When  lo,  the  crafty  knave  appears— 
A  proposition  stuns  their  ears  ! 

'Twas  what  he'd  been  contriving: — 

"  Choose  a  committee  from  among" — 

The  words  were  scarcely  from  his  tongue, 

When  each  one,  wildly  staring, 
Bhow'd  frightful  symptoms  of  chagrin 
Curs'd  the  vile  rogue  and  his  machine, 

And  travell'd  homeward,  swearing 

'Tvvas  all  imposture,  all  a  cheat — 
That  ?».'( tion  yet  retaiuM  her  seat 

In  Nature's  dark  recesses; 
And  had  not  come,  as  some  suppose, 
^Her  secret  invstYies  to  disclose, 
rough  Philadelphia  presses. 


""POEMS.  155 


But  let  not  Redheffer  despaic, 
A  thousand  people  yet  there  are, 

Who  really  believe  that 
Perpetual  motion  is  found  out — •- — - 
Devoid  of  scruple  or  a  doubt, 

And  cannot  wdl  conceive  that 

The  man  should  be  so  great  a  fool, 
As  thus  to  introduce  a  tool, 

"\Vith  vast -expense  and  labor,    - 
Only  to  make  his  credit  worse — 
For  nothing  but  tofitl  his  purse, 

And  wrong  his  honest  neighbor. 

Credulity,  how  great  thy  pow'ri 
Even  in  this  enlightened  hour, 

Thy  influence  is  unbounded! 
.Error  successfully  may  preach, 
For  Truth  has  lost  the  use  of  speech, 

And  Reason  is  confounded. 


A  NEW-YEAR'S  ADDRESS, 

For  January \  1819. 
TIME  with  his  scythe  has  mow'd  away 
The  human  race  from  day  today, 
Crop  after  crop,  year  after  year, 
Yet  Earth's  inhabitants  appear 
O 


154  POEMS. 

As  thoughtless  of  their  destiny—- 

Of  death,  and  of  eternity, 

"Which  soul  and  body  scon  must  sever, 

As  if  they  were  to  live  forever, 

Of  all  they  ou^ht  to  love  and  cherish, 

As  stupid  as  the  beasts  that  perish; 

And  so  they  will  be,  while  they  can, 

Whilst  life  is  lent — While  man  is  mail 

And  since  we  cannot  alter  things, 
As  Time  no  reformation  brings ; 
Since  vice  and  virtue,  wrong  and  right, 
Are  interstrcak'd,  like  black  and  white— 
Compose  the  threads  of  life  and  tissue, 
Where  none  can  plead  the  general  issue; 
Since  ev'ry  man  must  have  his  share 
Of  good  and  evil — joy  and  care ; 
Since  unmixM  happiness,  we,  know, 
Was  never  found  by  man  below, 
JTis  wisdom  for  us  to  submit, 
For  all  must  miss  what  none  can  hit, 
And  let  the  world  go  as  it  will, 
Say  to  our  passions — "  Peace,  be  still" 

How  many  days,  and  months,  and  years, 
Spent  in  alternate  rest  and  fears, 
Have  pass'd — are  gone — ?nd  strangely  seem 
A  dark,  pro;/  f:tic,  real  dream, 
That  leaves  impressions  strong  and  deep, 
Whenever  we  awake  from  sleep ; 


tf& 

We  shall  not  linger  to  recount, 
Or  figure  up  their  full  amount, 
But  hasten  briefly  to  pourtray 
The  leading  topics  of  the  day, 
Wishing  to  all  \v!io  read  or  hear, 
That  this  may  be  a  happy  year. 

Tyrants  legitimate  may  chafe, 
Oar  liberties,  thank  Il'rSn,  are  safe, 
And  guarded  well  the  nation  no*.v  is, 
By  vet'rans  brave,  and  naval  pro\ves;-f 
But  stronger  still  is  her  defence, 
In  virtue  and  intelligence, 
Which  all  our  happy  land  pervade, 
Reach  ev'ry  rank  and  ev'ry  grade. 

The  allied  Sovereigns  have  adjourned, 

And  to  their  restless  thrones  return M  ; 
Whose  trc-ops  have  had  a  merry  dance, 
The  fiddler  to  be  paid  by  France, 
But  whether  Bonaparte,  DOW  sick, 
(Some  think  it  nothing  but  a  trick,} 
Is  to  be  left  at  St.  Helena, 
Doum'd  to  the  mines  in  Csvthagenay 
Or  brought  to  England  for  a  show, 
They  have  not  sent  to  let  us  kuow ; 
One  truth  is  ascertained  about  Mm, 
et  democrats,  can  do  without  iii-m. 


156  POEMS. 

Affairs  unsettled  still  remain 
With  pious  Ferdinand  of  Spain  j 
But  why,  no  other  reason  known  i*, 
Than  that  the  chevalier  Don  Onis, 
And  Quincy  Jldams  could  not  see 
Why  they  should  differ — why  agree  ; 
Though  Mr.  Secretary  John 
Gets  much  the  better  of  the  Dow. 

Some  thought  that  Jackson  acted  drolly, 
In  rashly  taking  Pensacola  ; 
Hut  our  good  President  Monroe, 
The  measure  has  approved,  you  know, 
And  as  we  nothing  had  to  gain, 
Has  giv'n  it  baek  to  whiwp'ring  Spain, 

The  Southern  Patriots'  cause  sublime, 
We  wish  to  sing,  but  have  not  time  ; 
Successful  may  their  effort*  be, 
For  equal  rights  and  liberty. 

Of  news  domestic,  small  our  share  ; 
We  give  you  all  we  have  to  spare — 
Deaths, Marriages,  and  something  farther, 
With  now  and  then  a  "  Horrid  Jlurth-fr." 
Fires,  shipwrecks,  storms,  a  "  dreadful  gale,'*" 
Sea-Serpents,  and  "  The  Real  Whale," 
With  thefts  and  robb'ries,  more  or  less.. 
Are  all  the  tidings  we  possess. 


POEMS.  157 

Now,  as  the  year  anew  begins, 
And  while  you  sit  and  warm  your  shins, 
Around  your  blazing  chimney  places, 
Joy  painted  in  your  glowing  faces, 
Joy  that  kind  PROVIDENCE  attends  you, 
Health,  and  a  copious  harvest  sends  you  ; 
Now  as  you  seize  the  morning  news, 
Wet  like  the  leaves  with  summer  dews, 
Or  as  you  light  your  evening  tapers, 
And  haste  to  read  the  fresh  damp  papers, 
Amidst  the  cold  and  sterms  of  winter, 
Think  on  the  Newsboy,  and  the  Printer, 
And  never  leave  them  cause  to  say — 
'<  We  suffer  for  the  want  o/— PAY ;" 
At  least — while  true  in  your  employ. 
Present  a  trifle  to  the  BOY. 


From  the  New -York  Statesman. 

[[The  following  beautiful  lines  are  from  the  pen  of 
WILLIAM  RAY,  Esq.  of  Onondaga,  whose  poetical 
effusions  have  often  delighted  the  public,  and  whose 
genius  ?.nd  taste  ought  to  have  secured  to  him  the 
smiles,  instead  of  the  sternest  frowns,  of  fortune.-— 
Few  men,  or  in  more  emphatic  terms,  few  poets, 
not  even  excepting  Chatterton  and  Burns,  have 
witnessed  darker  scenes  of  misfortune  than  Mr. 
Ray;  and  his  cup  of  bitterness,  although^drained  to 
the  dregs,  seems  not  yet  exhausted,  ft  was  not 
enough,  that  he  endured  the  horrors  of  slavery  in  a 
02 


138  POEMS. 

foreign  land  ;  but  in  the  bosom  of  in  c;-;n  country, 
he  Isas  met  with  oppressors,  whose  tender  mercies- 
fire  scarcely  less  cruel,  than  those  \\hidi  ho  found  on" 
the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean.  During  the  reign 
of  proscription,  Mi.  liay  has.  with  many  other  good 
citizens,  been  deprived  of  his  cilice,  \vhich  was  the 
only  means  of  supporting  a  helpless  family,  and 
turned  adrift  upon  the  world.  We  have  understood 
he  contemplates  publishinga  small  volume  of  poems  j 
and  if  he  shall  conclude  to  hazard  such  a  publica 
tion,  inauspicious  as  the  times  are  for  an  underta 
king  of  this  sort,  we  sincerely  hope  that,  many  con 
siderations  will  ensure  to  him  a  liberal  subscription.} 

RETURN  OF  SPRING  AND  APPROACH  OF 
MAY. 

THE  signals  of  summer  appear, 
The  fields  and  the  forests  are  green, 
That  cherub,  the  spring  of  the  year, 
May  now  in  fresh  beauty  be 


The  fair  branching  fruit  trees  aspire, 
To  rival  each  other  in  charms, 
And  dress  in  their  gayest  attire, 
To  win  the  sweet  birds  to  their  arms. 

The  birds  as  if  conscious  of  this, 
Impartially  visit  them  all, 
Salute  every  bough  with  a  kiss, 
And  honor  each  spray  with  a  calh 


POEMS. 

Like  Orpheus  their  music  can  wove 
E'en  groves,  in  a  dance  from  the  ground  ; 
For  rocks  are  made  vocal  to  love, 
Convey'cl  in  the  magic  of  sound. 

How  fragrant  the  breath  of  the  skies, 
How  mellow  the  lustre  .of  day, 
That  breaks  from  the  morning's  blue  eyes, 
And  glows  in  the  blushes  of  May. 

And  evening  so  calmly  serene, 
Like  age  in  a  holy  decline, 
Seems  longing  and  lingering  between 
Two  regions,  with  fervor  divine. 

The  lamb,  like  a  juvenile  fair, 
So  innocent,  thoughtless, and  gay, 
Skips  forth  to  inhale  the  fresh  air, 
And  kiss  the  young  blossoms  of  May  ; 

And  oft  like  the  maid  is  assail M, 
And  ruin'd  by  foes  in  disguise ; 
For  virtue  has  seldom  prevail'd, 
Assaulted  by  treachVy  and  lies. 

The  husbandman,  seizing  his  plough, 
"Walks  round  in  the  pride  of  his  might, 
The  drops  of  his  masculine  brow, 
freely  as  tlews  of  the  eight;' 


J6d  POEMS. 

His  home  is  the  center  of  rest, 
His  heart  is  the  birth -place  of  joy, 
All  creatures  around  him  are  blest, 
And  praise  is  their  sweetest  employ 

Each  insect,  each  worm,  and  each  flowV, 
A  God  of  all  goodness  adore, 
Acknowledge  his  life-giving  pow'r, 
And  feed  on  his  bountiful  store. 

The  works  of  creation  unite, 
To  lead  up  man's  soul  to  the  skies; 
And  seasons  of  rural  delight 
Grve  wings  for  his  spirit  to  rise» 


THE  CARRIER  OF  THE  PLOUGH  BOY  TO 

HIS  P \TRONS. 
SONS  of  labor  now  at  easp, 
Whom  the  News-Boy  toils  to  please, 
Hore  he  comes  with  cap  in  hand 
Always  ready,  at  command, 
To  regale  you  with  the  news, 
And  effusions  of  the  muse, 
Glad  to  see  you  thus  appear, 
Like  the  dawning  of  the  year, 
Fresh  and  glowing,  bright  and  gay/ 
Oa  this  happy  New -Year's  Day, 


POEMS.. 

May  that  happiness  remain, 
Long  as  time  and  nature  reign, 
And  when  both  have  pass'd  away, 
Like  this  busy  fleeting  day, 
Happier  still  your  portion  be, 
Through  a  long  eternity. 

All  the  toils  of  summer  o'er, 
Peace  and  plenty  round  his  door. 
Who  on  earth  so  blest  and  free 
As  the  Farmer  ? — Like  the  bee, 
All  the  sweets  of  life  are  his — 
Large  and  full  his  cup  of  bliss — 
"Who  can  envy  thrones  to  kings, 
When  the  PLOUGH  such  treasure  brings-'- 

See  his  works  with  profit  crown'd — 
JSarns  with  hay -stacks  huddled  round,- 
Like  a  family,  whom  fear 
Draws  within  a  circle  near ; 
.Stately  steeds  and  cattle  neat, 
Cribs  of  corn  and  mows  of  wheat. 
Thickly  peopled  is  his  fold — 
Harmless  sheep  and  lambs  behold. 
Like  the  Christian,  'midst  the  din 
Of  a  noisy  world  of  sin — 
Fowls  oviperous  cackling  round, 
Pois'd  with  one  foot  on  the  ground, 
Meet  their  master  as  he  comes, 
Cluck  their  wants-and  shake  their  plumes. 


162'-  POEMS. 

When  at  midnight  all  is  still, 
Hear  his  geese  with  voices  shrill, 
At  the  silliest  thought  of  harm, 
Raise  the  tocsin  of  alarm; 
While  fiom  all  the  barn-yards  round.. 
Echoes  back  the  screaming  sound. 

See  the  lofty  turkey-cock, 
Monarch  of  the  feather  d  flock, 
Like  a  haughty  potentate, 
Strutting  round  the  yard  of  state, 
Fill'd  v.itii  anger  fierce  and  dread. 
At  the  sight  of  daringTed, 
Swell'd  and  gobbling  as  he  goes/ 
Dire  destruction  on  his  foes; 
But,  like  other  tj  rants,  he 
Soon  will  lose  his  head  you*!!  sec, 

Ere  the  morn  unlocks  her  doors/ 
Whence  a  stream  of  day-light  pours. 
Ere  the  bacchanalian  goes 
From  his  cups  to  seek  repose, 
Hear  the  game-cock's  clarion  peal, 
[Breaking  sleep's  mysterious  seal, 
Like  a  summons  from  the  skies, 
Calling  mortals  to  arise  ; 
While  each  failhiul  sentinel 
Answers  lour!  thafaH  is  well.* 
Ihdust'-v  obeys  the  call, 
Bises,  hastens  to  the  stall,- 


-POEMS.  163 

And  replenishes  wit'i  food 
All  his  stock,  an-J  ;i.i  his  T;COI!« 
Who  around  h'n,.  ^I.Uiyily 
.To  a  bountiful  st'iY'Sy. 
Back  the  husbandman  returns, 
Where  his  fire  no*.vbr!:k!y  burns, 
Where  the  partner  of  hi-  joys- 
Rosy  g:rls,  and  healthful  boy«, 
Kneeling  with  him  rourivl  the  chairs, 
Send  to  heaven  their -niatin  prayers: — 
Thus  the  year  with  him  begins, 
Thus  the  race  to  heaven  he  wins. 

-Roast  the  spare  rib,  spread  the  board, 
WeU  can  you  the  feast  afford : 
Call  your  neighboring  plough  boys  in, 
Wives  and  daughters,  ail  akin; 
Seated  round  the  parlor  stove, 
Warmer  than  the  heart  cf  love, 
Le-t  the  cider  freely  flaw, 
Till  your  cheeks  begin  to  glow ; 
Eat  and  drink,  and  drink  and  smoke, 
Tell  fhe  story,  crack  the  joke, 
Keeping  temperance  still  m  view, 
Kever  dream  of  getting  blue, 
For  remember  Adam  fell, 
As  the  sacred  canons  tell, 
By  that  fruit  whence  cider  pours, 

Seeds  of  hell  .were  in  its  cores ? 


164  POEMS. 

Caution  therefore  always  use, 
Lest  >^uf  paradise  you  lose. 
Ev'ry  wiatei  scenes  like  these, 
f  EvVy  New-Year's  farmer  sees. 

Sons  of  Ceres! — soon  this  day, 
take  myself  will  pass  away, 
Soon  our  sands  will  cease  to  run, 
Life  must  have  its  setting  sun, 
Death  will  come  and  no  one  spare, 
Land  us  all  the  Lord  knows  where.: 
But  with  Virtue  for  our  guide, 
And  Religion  by  oar  side, 
Lifted  by  devotion's  flame, 
Pure  as  when  fro»n  heaven  she  came, 
Piety  lias  nought  to  dread, 
From  the  precincts  of  the  dead; 
For  the  close  of  all  things  here, 
Brings  an  ever-blissful  year, 
.Glory's  never-setting  sun — 
EIGHTEEN  HUNDRED  TWENTY  ONE. 
Jan,  1/1821. 


POEMS.  16 

THE  CARRIER'S  ADDRESS  TO  THE   PA 
TRONS  OF  THE  N.  Y.  STATESMAN. 

January  1,  1821. 

DAYS,  and  hours,  and  moments  fly, 
Swift  as  lightning  through  the  sky  ; 

And,  like  arrows,  often  wound 
Those  who  see  not  whence  they  came, 

Bring  their  high  hopes  to  the  ground, 
With  a  sure  and  fatal  aim; 

Where  they  flutter,  die,  and  Hide, 

In  the  tomb  of  darkness  laid. 

But,  in  quick  succession,  rise 
Other  suns  to  light  the  skies, 

And  to  mark  the  speed  of  TIME  4 
While  creation  droops  or  cheers; 

Glad  as  morning  iu  her  prime, 
Breaking  from  anight  of  tears, 

Chasing  sadness  faraway, 

Let  us  hail  tiie  NEW-YEAR'S 


Sons  of  plenty,  \vhils  I  oiing 
Water  froa  P:Hu-'  sp  i'i£., 

As  you  slakf1  vour  thir^i  aw'-'Ie, 
Let  me  br  -fiv  !^pre  recount 

What,  rer.  -lance,  may  raise  a  smile, 
rFigwe  up  the  whole  air^m, 

What  the  year  now  p:m  h-ts  dene, 

What  expect  from—  'T 
P 


a  POEMS. 

In  the  catalogue  of  names, 
ENGLAND  first  attention  claims; 

There  behold  the  modest  Queen 
At  the  bur  of  trial  stand  ! 

Was  such  mock'ry  ever  seen? 
Such  a  filthy  cause  in  hand  ; 

Judge  and  culprit  on  a  throne, 

Party,  witness,  all  in  one. 

Innocent,  or  guilty  found, 
True  or  not,  a  mortal  wound 

Royal  George  is  doom'd  to  feel- 
Sad  confusion  and  dismay, 

Should  his  confidants  reveal 
His  dark  crimes  to  open  day  ; 

Revolution's  awful  flood 

Threats  to  drench  his  realm  in  blood. 

TurnM  from  this  disgusting  sight, 
Next,  O  Mus?,  on  RUSSIA  light, 

Alexander's  vast  domain — 
Troops,  like  dens  of  lions  fierce, 

Grind  their  teeth  on  FRANCE  and  SPAIX- 
Terror  of  the  universe : 

But  the  Holy  League,  they  trust, 

Will  protect  the  goed  and  just. 

Various  European  powers 
Seek  for  liberty  like  curs, 


:.is.  icr 


But  i     .  luaSs  of  II: 

Is  not  forni'd  oi  vuua!  rights; 

Folly  stiii  retains  b 
Bigot  still  for  bigot  fights; 

South  Amerir.a,  we  fear, 

Burs  he r  gold,  too,  i*!?; 

But,  from  Transatlantic  shores, 
Back  the  muse  historic  soars, 

And  alights,  with  woary  wing, 
On  our  national  affairs, 

Short  the  song  she  has  to  sing-, 
Hoarse  and  ptaintiv.?.  in  its  airs  ; 

For  the  sound  of  Slav'ry's  g  • 

Jars  and  mingles  in  its  tones. 

Land  of  freedom — in  ml  of  r-lcn'cs! 
State  of  patriots — state  of  knaves— - 

Sticklers  for  that  tr.iHic  base, 
\Vhich  degrades  the  Imir.itR  suul-^- 

Wiiich  enchains  a  kindred  race, 
Till  their  tears  in  blood-drops  roll ; 

Who  can  hear  Jlissoiiri  nam'd, 

And  not  feel  his  blood  iLiiaiii'd, 

But,  while  CLINTON  holds  the  reins, 
Free  and  sale  our  slate  regains— 

Undismay'd  by  foe  a  \vithin, 
Or  "  extraneous  influence" — 


168  POEMS. 

Notwithstanding  all  the  din 
Of  consummate  impudence  ; 
Though  a  set* of  wits  assails, 
Famous  for  their  monstrous  tales, 

EIGHTEEN  HUNDRED  TWENTY  ! — we 
Never  more  thy  face  shall  see ; 

But  thy  works  of  deathless  fame, 
Long  as  floods  through  channels  flow, 

Wide  shall  waft  a  CLINTON'S  name, 
Through  the  universe  below  ; 

For  in  this  eventful  year, 

Fleets  on  his  C  AN  AL  appear ! 

EIGHTEEN  HUNDRED  TWENTY  ONE  1 
Much  in  thee  too  will  be  dontv— 

Acted  many  a  bloody  scene-— 
Many  a  martyr  lose  his  head; 

For  proscription's  guillotine 
Numbers  thousands  with  the  dead  y 

Let  them  cut  and  slush  away, 

*'  Evrry  dog  must  have  his  day" 

GOD,  forever  good  and  kind, 
Still  the  same  we  hope  to  find — 

Yielding  plenty,  joy  and  peace  ; 
And  though  clouds  obscure  the  morn, 

He  can  bid  the  tempest  cease, 
Ere  the  noon-day  beam  is  born  ^ 


POEMS.  169 

Ere  the  year  half  through  has  run, 
Give  our  hopes  a  brighter  sun. 

Party  feuds,  and  public  strife, 
Which  embitter  private  life, 

Let  calm  Reason  shame  away — 
Unanimity  succeed — 

Harmless  beasts  and  beasts  of  prey, 
Lamb  and  wolf  together  feed  : 

All  in  peace  and  friendship  dwell — 

Such  my  pray'ris FARE  YOU  WELL, 


A  NEW-YEAR'S  ADDRESS, 

For  January  1,  J8£l. 

HEAR  the  winds  of  winter  blo\r, 
See  a  winding  sheet  of  snow 
O'er  the  face  of  Nature  spread, 
What  an  emblem  of  the  dead  ! 
But  as  SOLOMON  the  wise, 
Whose  sound  precepts  all  men  prize, 
Hath  announc'd,  though  not  in  rhyme, 
That  for  myrth  there  is  a  time, 
Let  us,  for  a  moment,  take 
Wisdom's  licence — merry  make, 
And  in  reason,  though  half  froze, 

Drink  oblivion  to  our  woes. 
P  S 


170  FGEM& 

Eighteen  hundred  twenty- or. e, 
Glad  we  hail  thy  rising  sun, 
And  before  his  glories  set, 
Hope  to  be  more  happy  yet ; 
For  th'  invited  guests  shall  bring, 
To  adorn  the  social  ring, 
Smiling  beauty,  flush?d  with  joy, 
Chaste,  unmingled  with  alloy — 
Sturdy  health,  with  stomach  keen, 
Well  informed  what  dinners  m; . 

Fill  your  pitchers  to  the  brim, 
Let  your  guests  in  Cider  swim, 
If  they  choose  it,  and  would  wish.' 
Thus  to  wash  down  dish  on  dish  ; 
Or  some  pure  Madeira  take, 
Merely  for  the  stomach's  sake ; 
But  for  Brandy,  Rum,  or  Gin, 
Shun  them  as  the  gates  of  sin ; 
Pain  and  misrrj,  strife  and  woe, 
From  thence  inevitably  fio^.v. 

Now  gay  evening's  chat  conies  on, 
'Party  politics — begone! 
And,  at  least  for  one  short  day, 
Send  all  bickering  imps  away  ; 
Rural  sports,  and  festive  joy, 
Be  our  innocent  employ. 


POEMS. 

Thus  while  round  the  hearth  or  stov 
Doub'y  warm'd  by  fire  and  love, 
While  the  luscious  banquet  flows, 
Till  the  midnight  watch-cock  crows, 
Think  how  wretched  millions  are, 
'While  such  blessings  freemen  share  3 
Think  of  England's  royal  knaves, 
Vassal  Lords,  and  subject  slaves, 
Whose  old  gouty  King  and  Queen, 
Act  a  most  disgraceful  scene; 
Think  of  Europe's  wide  domain, 
Bound  in  one  eternal  chain, 
In  a  "  holy  league"  combined, 
To  enslave  and  drag  mankind, 
At  the  chariot  wheels  of  pow'r, 
For  destruction  to  devour ! 
Think — and  bless  the  Lord  who  saves 
Us  from  being  kings  or  slaves. 

Sons  of  freedom,  plenty,  peace ! 
Till  the  years  of  time  shall  cease, 
May  your  happiness  remain — 
Union,  concord,  ever  reign  ! 
May  the  News-Boy  always  find 
Brisk  employ,  and  Patrons  kind — 
Long  as  snows  of  Heav'o  shall  drift, 
Find  a  joyful  New  rears  Gift. 


If  2-  POEMS. 

NEW-YEAR'S  ADDRESS. 

From  the  Carrier  of  the  Gazette  &  Onondaga  Ad 
vertiser,  to  his  Patrons, 

January  1,  1821. 
OLD  Time,  with  his  hand,  has  conducted  along, 

His  chaste  little  daughter  in  white; 
Exhorting  us  all  to  attend  to  her  song- 
She  sings  with  enchanting  delight. 

She  says  she  has  come  from  the  regions  on  high, 
Where  planets  whirl  round  like  a  top; 

And  that  her  old  father  most  surely  must  die, 
Whenever  their  motions  they  stop. 

Om  thousand  eight-hundred  and  twenty  and  one, 

Her  stylish  long  name  is  below; 
Her  grand -mother  Moon,  and  her  grand-father  Sun, 
Her  high  birth  and  family  show. 

Joy,  plenty,  and  peace,  she  delights  to  behold, 
Her  visit  shall  last  till  our  sphere 

Has  sail'd  round  the  sun,  thro'  his  oceans  of  gold— 
The  full-ending  term  of  a  year. 

In  rural  festivities  let  us  unite, 

And  banish  all  sorrow  away, 
Lay  hold  of  good  dinners,  with  all  cur  whole  might, 

And  joyfully  wind  up  the  day. 


POEMS.  £73 

Discordant  political  sentiments  waive, 

Which  social  hilarity  chill, 
And  if  a  Convention  the  People  must  have, 

Submission,  I  say,  to  their  will. 

Let  England's  chaste  queen,  or  her  boozy  old  king. 

Of  conjugal  vows  make  a  breach  ;- 
Legitimate  royalty,  what  a  fine  thing 

To  follow,  to  practise,  or  preach. 

Yes,  let  them  alone,  it  is  nothing  to  us, 

How  virtuous  or  vicious  are  those ; 
The  question  a!  me  which  we  now  shall  discuss.; 

Is,  when  shall  our  merriment  close. 

Gome  fill  up  the  pitcher  with  cider  again. 

And  give  us  another  good  song ; 
All  hcrrou-  and  sigMng  are  fruitless  and  vain, 

For  Providence  never  do^s  wrong. 

Success  to  the  plough,  to  the  loom,  to  the  spade, 

To  industry,  labor  and  toil, 
And  may  our  elections  be  speedily  made 

T'  embrace  ev'ry  man  of  the  soil. 

And  while  the  poor  News-Boy,and  Post-rider  too, 

Continue  their  faithful  employ, 
With  just  expectations  they  look  up  to  you* 

And  wisb  you  all  possible  joy. 


POEMS. 

May  smiling  Prosperity  always  attend 
Our  Patrons,  with  heart y  ^ocd  cheer, 

And  ne'er  »  ^rudtiv  a  s:;juil  boon  tea  frieiij 

To  yield  him  A  1-  •/.  -}  KAH, 


PETITION  TO  -THE  CONVENTION  IN  BE 
HALF  OF  THE  LADIES. 

By  their  friend  and  counsellor. 
A  HUMBLE  bard  who  ne'er  before, 
AddressM  a  speaker  on  the  floor 

Of  capital — would  mention, 
Without  a  quibble  or  a  quirk, 
What  ladies  beg  may  be  one  work 

Of  your  wise  state  convention. 

That  ev'ry  one  must  have  a  vote, 
Who  does  not  wear  a  petticoat, 

Is  generally  admitted ; 
But  why  should  women  be  denied, 
And  have  their  tongues  completely  tied., 

For  party  broils  well  fitted. 

The  question  is  of  sreat  account, 
Wnich  no  convention  can  surmount, 

Without  dissatisfaction 
Amongst  the  ladies — so  I  fear, 
And  therefore  as  their  friend  appear, 

And  counsel  in  this  action. 


POEMS. 

That -women  have  a  ri^.t  to  live. 
Tea  •  could  ^ive, 

But:  doubted; 

And  IK'  heir  freedom  haul!;. 

And  say  they  hai     no  i :  fit  to  talk. 

Would  from  the  world  be  scouted. 

Th?  !Y.r!:s,  I  know,  who  hold  no  polls., 
Believe  that  women  Live  r.c  ro'i!?; 

];ut,  when  l!,ey  v.ear  the  breeches, 
As  oft  they  do  in  states  like  ours, 
Which  give  them  supernatural  powers. 

And  hang  them  up  for  witches. — - 

To  say  that  women  must  be  driven 
From  CVTJ  other  place  but  heav'u, 

f  s  certainly  alarming  ; 
And  he  who  would  the  like  maintain.; 
it  to  be  treated  with  disuuiu, 
In  company  so  charming. 

is  half- woman,  at  the  least, 
Excepting  now  and  thsn  a  beast, 

Who4  forfeits  all  pretensions 
To  decency  arid  common  sense, 
By  ir.uny  a  foul  and  black  offence: 

And  yet,  some  state  conventions 


6  POEMS. 

Have  in  their  wisdom,  found  it  meet 
To  let  such  wretches  step  their  feet, 

Polluted  with  infection, 
Into  the  sacred  fane  where  lies 
The  ark  of  all  our  liberties — 

The  birthright  of  election  ; 

While  women,  pure  as  Eden's  queen, 
Before  that  world-distressing  scene, 

In  myst'ry  darkly  hidden, 
Must  stand  aloof — remaining  dumb, 
And  never  to  elections  come — 

By  haughty  man  forbidden. 

But  you,  immortal  statesmen,  you, 
Keeping  the  lovely  sex  in  view 

At  your  august  convention, 
"Will  frame  the  constitution  so 
That  ladies  can  t'  election  go, 

Without  the  least  detention*; 

For,  should  you  otherwise  decree, 
The  direful  conseciuorjce  iray  be 

Diminish \!  [>upul?ti(m ; 
And  this  Pin  authorised  to  say, 
If  women's  rights  are  iiuug  away, 

Is  their  determination. 


POEMS. 
ELEGY, 

Ox   THE   D  if.  ATM     OF    JAMLS    CHAL^CEY    MAN 

WE  saw  iiini  on  the  bed  of  death, 
His  wailing  friends  stood  near, 

,\  2  roan  \v  :s  born  at  every  breath — 
From  every  eye  a  tear. 

Damp  chills  convulsive  pangs  succeed, 

Till  nature*  yields  the  strife, 
From  eyes  that  weep,  and  hearts  thai  bleed, 

Death  tears  away  ins  life. 

He's  -zone  from  sickness,  pain  and  wo. 

Where  EVERLASTING  L^  E 
Gives,  for  a  wretched  world  below, 

A  world  of  bliss  t-.bove. 

Thus  fails  before  thee,  ruthless  "  king 

Of  terrors/"  old  and  young; 
The  jiiirus*  blossoms  of  the  spring, 

On  ten :r rest  stems  are  hung. 

Snapp'd  by  the  vernal  breeze  they  fall, 

They  wither,  fa.le,  a:id  ci:e  ; 
Tiie  breath  of  heav'n,  t:ie  iifo  of  all, 

Is  life's  expiring  sigh. 

A  brother  of  less  numberd  years, 

A  brother  sees  expire 
His  sisters  all  su3usM  ir,  tears 

Put  on  the  black  attire. 

Q 


irs  POEMS. 

But  who  shall  bind  the  broken  heart, 
Or  soothe  his  parent's  grief? 

With  children  oh,  how  hard  to  part! 
How  hard  to  find  relief. 

Philosophy  in  vain  may  seek 

An  antidote  or  cure  j 
'Tis  GOD  alone  can  comfort  speak, 

Or  know  what  they  endure. 

To  Him  whene'er  the  mourner  flics 

With  penitence  and  pray'r, 
He  wipes  the  tear-drops  from  his  eyes, 

And  lights  up  rapture  there. 
March  16,  1821. 


[The  two  elegiac  poems  which  follow,  were  by 
a  mistake  in  not  looking;  on  both  sides  of  a  printed 
leaf  pasted  at  one  end  in  a  book  of  copy,  nearly 
half  omitted  in  another  part  of  this  work — pages 
59  and  74.  They  are,  therefore,  to  remedy  the 
mistake,  printed  over  again  and  entire,,  as  below.] 

To  the  Memory  of  Brigadier    General  ZEBULON 
MONTGOMERY  PIKE,  who  fdl  at  the  capture  of 
Little  York,  U.  C.  Jtpril&T,  1813. 
IF  ever  angels,  from  the  blissful  skies, 

Look  down  on  mortals,  with  benignant  eyes, 


179 

;Tis  when  the  brave  repose  in  heav'n  their  trust, 
Whose  cause  is  righteous,  and  whose  views  are 

just— 

'Tis  on  the  hero,  who,  when  duty  calls, 
O'er  death  triumphant,  nobly  fights  and  fails  ; 
IF  ever  grief  intrudes  on  heav'nly  bliss, 
'Tis  when  such  scenes  occur — a  sight  like  this  ; 
A  scene  which  cau«M  our  sorrowing  hearts  to  swell, 
\Vhen  Pike,  so  recently,  in  battle  fell  ! 

LovM  by  all  rank?,  revert!  wherever  known., 
His  name  a  terror  to  his/oes  alone  : 
In  whom  the  virtues  all  were  seen  to  blend, 
In  war  an  enemy,  in  peace  a  friend  ; 
Offspring  of  honor,  valor's  fav  rite  child, 
Calm, but  cleterminM— spirited,  but  mild  ; 
Stern,  though  not  haughty ;  affable, 'though  grave  ; 
Politely  resolute,  humanely  brave; 
In  discipline  not  cruelly  severe  ; 
His  soldiers  lov?d  him  with  a  filial  fear; 
Prompt  to  their  needs  of  what  to  each  belongs, 
Just  to  their  rights — attentive  to  their  wrongs; 
He  knew  the  spirit  of  the  man  to  save — 
To  lead  the  soldier,  not  to  drive  the  slave; 
T' infuse  that  valor,  which  himself  possess'd, 
Through  all  his  ranks — in  ev'ry  private's  breast. 

In  early  youth  his  country?s  arms  he  bore, 
When  the  drear  western  wilds  be  traversal  o'er  ; 


iso  POEMS1. 

In  early  youth  he  caught  the  patriot's  fia;no, 
And  planted  laurels  in  the  field  of  fame  ; 
The  growth  luxuriant,  subsequently  spread, 
And  twin'd,  as  if  by  instincf,  round  his  head  ; 
Though  now  in  death  the  warrior's  corse  lies  low, 
On  his  moist  grave  perpetual  wreaths  shall  grow; 
Year  after  year  rerlourish,  and  be  seen 
To  wear  a  livelier  hue — a  brighter  green. 

When  his  blest  spirit  sought  those  realms  on  high, 
'Where  rest  the  brave  who  for  their  country  dii>, 
Those  kindred  martyrs  who  had  gone  before, 
All  joisiM  to  hail  him  to  that  joyous  shore, 
Where  heav'nry  harps  eternal  anthems  strike, 
Now  mingling  in  their  songs  the  name  of  Pike. 

But  to  his  contort,  who  shall  yield  relu.f ! ! 
Could  strains  elegiac  hut  retrench  thy  ^rief, 
How  would  the  bard  his  labor'd  notes  prolong, 
Nay,  drink  thy  sorrows  to  inspire  his  song  ; 
Bat  c'tn  this  well-meant  tribute  to  his  worth, 
Which  friendship   dictates,  and   which  truth  calls 

forth, 

Perhaps  its  object  shall  defeat,  and  throw 
A  glco'.'ner  aspect  on  the  face  of  woe  ! 
S'.'ppin  fresh  tears  the  mourner's  sab! 3  weoo*, 
And  tear  tta  bandage  from  the  heart  t'int  b'eeds  ! 
Though  oft  as  probing  gives  the  wound  relief. 
So  may  the  sound  that  waken?,  lul!  thy  £:  i 


POEMS.  181 

And  Ihou,  fair  orphan!  may  the  Pow'r  above, 
Compensate,  with  his  own,  a  fathers  love — 
An  angel  be  thy  guardian  here  below, 
And  heav'n  thy  refuge  from  a  world  of  wo. 

And  you,  his  brave  companions  in  the  flight, 
Whose  souls  now  walk  in  everlasting  light, 
Long  may  your  widows,  friends,  and  orphans  share 
Their  nation's  bounty,  and  their  country's  care. 

Shade  of  Montgomery!  didst  tliou  see  him  fall, 
"Whose  heart,  like  thine,  no  dangers  could  appal  ? 
His  name  was  thine — and  with  thy  deathless  name. 
He  shar'd  thy  fate,  thy  spirit  and  thy  fame; 
Like  thine,  posterity  his  deeds  shall  own, 
And  learn  his  merits  from  the  speaking  stone  ; 
Till  man  and  nature  meet  their  gen'ral  doom, 
In  one  vast  ruin — one  eternal  tomb. 


ELEGY 

On  the  Death  o/ JOHN  HILLIARD,  who  died  Jam  3d, 

1804,  in  the  prison  of  Tripoli. 
HILLIARD,  of  painful  life  bereft, 

Is  now  a  slave  no  more; 
But  here  no  relative  has  left, 
Ilia  exit  to  deplore ! 

No  parent,  no  fond  brother,  stands 
Around  his  clav-cokl  bed  ; 
*Q  2 


182  POEM  So 

No  wife,  with  tender,  trembling  hands. 
Supports  his  dying  head. 

No  sister  follows  or  attends 

His  melancholy  bier  ; 
Nor  from  a  lover's  eye  descends 

The  soft  distilling  tear ; — 

But  foes,  and  of  a  barb'rous  kind, 

Surround  him  as  he  diesj 
A  horror  to  his  fainting  mind, 

And  to  his  closing  eyes. 

What  though  no  monumental  stone 

Bespeaks  a  guilty  name, 
By  splendid  trophies  basely  won* 

Damn'd  to  eternal  fame  |: 

If  but  an  honest  heart  he  bore, 

If  virtue's  paths  he  trod, 
He  was,  so  poets  sung  of  yore, 

"  The  noblest  work  of  God." 

His  fellow -pris'ners  strove  to  chee? 

His  sad  departing  soul, 
And  bade  the  sympathetic  tear, 

Jn  free  profusion  roll. 

3Mourn  not — 'twas  HeavVs  all-wise  behest, 

And  merciful  decree, 
That  gave  his  weary  ing  sorrows  rest, 

And  set  the  captive  iree. 


EXORDIUM, 

WHAT  has  been  always  customary, 

Legal  becomes,  and  necessary  ; 

And  'mongst  ten  thousand  stranger  thingsj 

When  wonder  from  a  volume  rin^s, 

Is  that  anxiety  we  show, 

The  writer  of  the  book  to  know  ; 

Whether  he  ignorant  or  wise  is— 

A  knave,  or  fool  with  virtuous  vices; 

And  hence  the  practice  is  to  shew  'ina 

In  biographic  sketch,  or  proem  ; 

Here  follows,  then,  or  Truth's  a  liar, 

Some  pat  remarks,  if  you  desire, 

And  leisure  have  to  halt  and  read  ?em, 

If  not,  skip  o'er,  and  never  heed  'em. 

That  he  was  born,  you  \vell  may  know, 
For  any  fool  could  tell  you  so ; 
Of  whom,  perhaps,  you  wish  to  hear, 
The  day,  the  month,  the  hour,  the  year  ; 
All  these  we  very  well  remember; 
'Twas  on  the  ninth  day  of  December, 
In  seventeen  hundred  seventy-one, 
Before  the  rising  of  the  suii. 


184  EXORDllTM'. 

And  just  if  you'll  believe  the  story* 
As  chaste,  and  blushing,  fair  Aurora 
Burst  the  clasp'd  arms  of  negro  Night, 
A  RAY  from  darkness  peep  VI- to  light 

His  father,  wise  as  most  of  men, 
Found  out  that  frve  and  five  made  ten ; 
(But  still  he  taught  his  docile  son 
That  one  were  three,  and  three  were  one) 
And  proved  of  philosophic  lore, 
The  more  we  know,  we  know  the  more; 
That  pain  would  pain,  and  pleasure  please  him — 
That  fire  would  burn,  and  frost  would  freeze  him  j 
And  though  he  could  not  name  the  causes 
Of  planets'  motions,  and  their  pauses, 
llejudg'd  that  black  could  not  be  white — 
Of  course,  that  darkness  must  be  nights 
Except  when  some  eclipse  befel  us, 
Which  by  ephem'ris  he  could  tell  us, 
All  this  he  knew  by  perfect  rule, 
Although  he  never  taught  a  school ; 
Never,  with  all  his  stock  of  knowledge, 
Was  graduated  at  a  College, 
Where  thousands  take  their  learn'd  degrees, 
Jn  arts  less  useful  far  than  these; 
And  yet  the  son  was  counted  rather 
More  learn'd  and  skilful  than  his  father. 

Now  busy  Fame  and  staring  Wonder 
Have  nearly  burst  their  orbs  asunder, 


EXORDIUM. 

And  Curiosity  stands  tip-toe, 
And  Slander's  dying,  to  let  slip  too, 
And  asks  wl.at  dung-hill  of  the  earth, 
Was  known  by  suc'i  n  cr<nrtngk  birth  ? 
"While  some,  yet  none  but  silly  asses, 
V»~iil  judge  it  to  have  been  Parnassus. 

In  hopes  it  will  not  blast  the  fame  of 
America,  he  boasts  the  name  of 
American.—"  Bat/'  says  the  Yankee, 
"  If  you  will  tell  me  where,  I'll  thank  'e; 
"  For  sir.ce  the  country  you  have  told,  Sir,  • 
"  \Vhat  place,  if  I  may  be  so  bold,  Sir? 
"  For  asking  questions  we  are  famous, 
"  And  strangers,  therefore,  cannot  blame  us.'3 
O,  not  at  all  -what  you  demand,  Sir, 
Prompt  as  a  witness  I  shall  answer. 

Connecticut,  to  frogs  once  fatal, 
Is  the  same  State  he  calls  his  natal ; 
A  State  which  other  States  surpasses, 
For  pumpkins,  jonny-cakes,  molasses, 
Rogues,  priests,  attorneys,  quack-physicians/ 
BliuMaws,  and  bho!c-coat  politicians, 
W!:f  re  many  a  father's  son,  aye,  plenty, 
Is  father  of  a  son  at  twenty  ; 
And  many  a  mother's  maid  has  been. 
A  mother  made  at  seventeen; 
And  many  more,  at  twenty-sev'n, 
.Pray  taore  for  husbands  than  for  heav'nv 


180  EXORDIUM. 

Where  people  live,  while  they  have  breath, 

And  die  whene'er  they  meet  with  death. 

Of  Litrhfield  county's  mud  and  clay, 

Was  form'd  the  iiesh  of  WILLIAM  HAY  ; 

And  Salisbury  the  very  place 

Where  first  he  dar'd  to  shew  his  face ; 

A  county  where  the  feds  prevail, 

And  Selleck  Osborri  pin'd  in  jail, 

To  prove  of  martyrdom  the  fitness, 

By  giving  to  the  world  a  Witness 

That  men  may  Freedom  have,  and  lose  her, 

Court,  and  ived  pow-r,  and  then  abuse  her. 

Early  in  life  he  went  to  school, 
To  gather  wisdom  from  a  fool  ; 
Who,  senseless  dolt,  no  reason  knew  why 
One  had  a  black,  and  one  a  blue  eye  ; 
Why  some  than  other  men  were  taller, 
Had  longer  noses,  or  were  smaller  ; 
Nor  why  so  many  sons  of  \d,im 
Had  not  black  skins,  while  others  had  'cm  ; 
Nor  whether  that  complexion  sabio 
Mark'd  Cain,  for  killing  brother  Abel ; 
Nor  could  he  tell  us,  by  Addition, 
How  many  quacks  made  one  physician; 
How  many  pettifoggers,  pliant, 
Made  one  true  lawyer  to  his  client; 
Plow  many  prinsts,  that  cant  and  whine,, 
Made  one  sood  orthodox  divine ; 


EXORDIUM.  187 

How  many  pray'rs  there  must  be  giv'n, 
To  send  one  hypocrite  to  heav'n; 
How  many  prudes,  that  fancy  no  man, 
Made  one  chaste,  virtuous,  honest  woman; 
Nor  could  he  tell,  with  all  his  brains, 
Take  pride  from  alms  ar.d  what  remains  ; 

:  vet,  although  h<  knew  Subtraction, 
Ta!:e  lust  from  love  and  leave  a  fraction; 
Nor  shew  us,  by  Multiplication^ 
How  many  scoundrels  rule  a  nation, 
Whi'e  many  good  men,  bi-ReJurtion, 
Are  brought  to  prison  and  destruction. 

.  But.  he  could  shew,  by  Rule  of  TUree, 
As  warfare  is  to  butchery, 
So  heroes  equal  guilt  exhibit, 
To  cut-throats,  dangling  on  a  gibbet; 
And  prove,  from  Interest, ;  which  a  fact  is,) 
The  just  in  word  are  knaves  in  Practice; 
By  Barter,  and  by  Loss  and  Gain, 
How  fools  Exchange  their  ease  for  pain. 

Of  Ethics  he  knew  not  a  little, 
For  he  could  tell  us  to  a  tittle, 
Though  the  distinction  very  nice  is, 
The  names  of  virtues  and  of  vices; 
That  friendship  nothing  meant  but  pelf, 
And  Social  Love^—to  love  one's  Self; 


lift  KXORDIUM. 

That  Truth  was  made — not  to  be  spoken, 
And  vows  of  Honor — to  be  broken; 
Thatri-id  Justice  all  detest, 
A  id  Jlfr.rcii.  pp.'v  ful  to  the  breast ; 
That  Lore  of  Country  meant  the  same 
As  Pride,  jlmkition,  2'oup,  and  Fame: 
That  Courage,  term  it  as  you  will, 
Was  nought  but  fear  that  greater  ill 
Would  fnilou',  if  we  took  to  flight, 
T!  an  wcet  us,  if  we  brav'd  the  fight; 
T)mt  Hanesfy,  so  much  applauded, 
Ji'Ml  OunMUHis  of  their  rights  defrauded  ; 
Sohiduoii  was,  so  uiarr'd  and  twisted^, 
He  couid  uottoll  where  it  existed. 
And  to  his  knowledge  pedagogic, 
He  added  all  the  povv'r*  of  Lv^-ic; 
For  he  could  prove  from  reasons  strong, 
That  id  ur/^- was  right,  and  rig/ii  \vas 
That  is,  by  Pope's  "  unerring  RV't," 
lie  show'd  "  whatever  is,  is  right;" 
And  hence,  by  reasons  full  as  strong, 
Whatever  is  not,  is  not  wrong  ; 
And  t\\u$  prQbatum e$t  i\  stood. 
That  there  is  neither  bad  nor  good.— - 
But  halt — the  muse  flics  quite  too  fast, 
And  sohie  important  tilings  has  past. 

Ere  yet  he  reach'd  septennial  years, 
.To  raise  his  hopes  and  calm  his  fears, 


EXORDIUM.  189 

.Hespectieg  what  some  zealots  tell, 
How  span -long  infants  roast  in  hell, 
Who  into  it  were  luckless  hurl'd, 
Before  they  ever  saw  the  world ; 
'Tv/as  found  expedient  he  should  know 
The  terras  of  future  bliss  or  wo. 
The  first  was  infantile  baptism, 
And  then  to  learn  his  catechism, 
-Dug  from  the  Scripture's  deepest  mines., 
By  Reverend  Synod  of  Divines. 
In  which  they  taught  him  to  believe, 
The  snake  that  courted  granny  Eve, 
Though  like  a  gentleman,  so  civil, 
Was  his  '•'  grim  majesty,  the  D?vil  /' 
Who  with  his  tongue  took  such  a  grapple, 
He  coax'd  her  to  accept  an  apple  °, 
Which  she,  like  any  well-bred  woman, 
With  her  lov'd  husband  shared  in  common  '9 
And  being  left  to  free  volition, 
Brought  us  inta  our  e^rsM  condition. 
Yet  God  himself  ordain'd  the  sin, 
Which  could  not  otherwise  have  been; 
That  God,  from  all  eternity, 
By  his  immutable  decree, 
Elected  some  of  Adam's  race, 
The  minions  of  his  partial  grace; 
Inspir'd  the  gospel  to  believe, 

C.oaipeli'd  his  mercy  to  receive ; 
R 


190  EXORDIUM. 

From  crimes  atrocious  call'd  or  driv'n, 
And  dragg'd  by  violence  to  heav'n ; 
"While  far  the  greater  part  remain 
Predestin'd  to  eternal  pain; 
The  objects  of  his  wrath,  created 
On  purpose  to  be  reprobated  ; 
MockM  by  an  ineffectual  call, 
And  told  that  grace  was  offerd  all ; 
Debarr'd  from  ever  faith  receiving, 
And  damn'd  at  last  for  not  believing;, 
Like  one  who  spreads  a  free  repast, 
And  calls  his  servants  all  to  taste, 
Admits  a  few  to  be  his  brothers, 
And  bolts  his  door  against  the  others. 
Then  punishes,  with  ruthle«s  hand, 
Those  who  obey'd  not  his  command. 

To  bring  such  dogmas  reconciled, 
Would  puzzle  any  common  child; 
He,  therefore,  while  his  faith  was  sprouting, 
Began  to  doubt,  and  still  is  doubting ; 
But  here  he  rests,  here  all  his  trust  is, 
That  God  both  merciful  and  just  is,' 
And  will  not  plunge  our  souls  in  wo, 
For  crimes  six  thousand  years  ago. 

In  childhood,  plumbs,  and  cakes,  and  toys,    > 
These  constituted  half  his  joys; 
And  buckles,  buttons,  or  a  knife, 
AYere  valued  dearl  v  as  his  life ; 


EXORDIUM, 

The  mirror  poiul,  the  gurgling  rill, 
"Whereon  bo  built  his  little  mill; 
The  sling,  whence  buzz'd  the  pebble  missile, 
The jews-harp,  whirligig  and  whistle: 
But,  lest  we  weary  your  attention, 
AVith  things  too  trilling:  now  to  mention, 
"With  sweetest  joys  of  life  we'll  class  them, 
And  so  in  fond  remembrance  pass  them, 
And  come  to  tell  you  how  he  acted, 
As  time  and  years  his  life  protracted. 

In  youth  the  tyranny  of  passions, 
And  versatility  of  fashions, 
Though  sober  call'd,  by  some,  and  steady, 
Made  his  head  whirl  till  it  was  giddy ; 
For  pleasure  led  him  such  a  caper, 
He  thought  he  could  not  well  escape  her; 
And  Happiness,  Contentment's  daughter, 
He  fancied  once  that  he  had  caught  her; 
But  on  a  strict  examination, 
Lo !  'twas  the  termagant,  Vexation  f 
That,  like  a  Vixen,  ever  follow'd 
Those  pleasures  not  by  temp'rance  hailowM  ; 
That  gaudy  clothing,  brilliant  dances, 
And  love,  which  all  the  soul  entrances, 
That  vision  of  a  vision,  which  is 
A  phantom  all  the  world  bewitches, 
To  follow  in  a  certain  train 
The  path  that  often  ends  in  paitf, 


192  EXORDIUM. 

Was  happiness  :  but  ah  !  we  find 
5Tis  seated  only  in  the  mind, 
By  reason  into  truth  conducted. 
And  sound  morality  instructed; 
Arnrd  with  philosophy  t'  oppose 
Our  passions,  worst  of  all  our  foes. 

At  twenty-two,  he  entered  trade ; 
But  Fortune,  that  capricious  jade, 
Soon  as  he  mounted  on  her  back, 
Fled  frisking  from  the  beaten  track, 
Took  to  the  woods,  through  thorn  and  brigr* 
And  left  him  sprawling  in  the  mire. 
"While  creditors'  voracious  jaws, 
Cursing  insolvents,  and  their  laws, 
Yavvn'd,  frothing  like  a  beast  that  battles, 
To  swallow  all  his  goods  and  chattels ; 
Each  swearing  he'd  have  what  was  his'n, 
Or  end  the  debtor's  life  in  prison. 
In  such  a  just  and  noble  cause, 
They  had  the  sanction  of  the  laws  ; 
Which  give  us  liberty  to  seize, 
And  murder  debtors,  if  we  please  ; 
For  when  they  nothing  have  to  give, 
They  should  not  any  longer  live  : 
So  erst  the  wisdom  of  the  state, 
Hatch'd  from  some  Solon's  pond'rous  pate,. 
Ordain'd  that  each  insolvent  debtor, 
Tc  live  and  pay  his  debts  the  better^ 


EXORDIUM. 

Should,  or  might  be,  forthwith  arrested, 
And  creditors  with  right  invested 
'So  seize  his  property,  while  any, 
And  when  he'd  not  another  penny. 
To  take  his  body,  sick  or  well, 
And  drag  it  to  a  icorse  than  hell ; 
Depriv'd  of  all  the  joys  of  life, 
Perhaps  a  family  and  wife, 
Camelion-like  to  feed  on  air, 
Or  worse,  on  misYy  and  despair; 
Without  the  means  or  pow'r  to  pay, 
Much  longer  than  the  judgment  day, 
Unless  the  three-fourth  act  he  take, 
Or  make  his  fortune  with  a  break ; 
If  not,  why  let  the  rascal  lie, 
What  is  it  for  a  man  to  die, 
Who  must  discharge,  sooner  or  later, 
The  debt  he  owes  to  mother  Nature? 
And  'twill  be  own'd  by  any  dunce, 
He'd  better  pay  them  all  at  once  ; 
For  death's  a  debt  we  all  must  pay, 
Our  life's  expenses  to  defray. 

Such  is  the  Sample  Candor  draws. 
To  shew  the  mildness  of  our  laws, 
"Which  force  men  to  abscond  or  fly, 
Turn  swindlers,  win  prison  die; 
He,  therefore,  to  avoid  the  times* 
Embark'd  to  visit  foreign  climes, 
R  8 


194  EXORDIUM. 

And  by  experience  'twill  be  found 
That  man  is  man  the  world  around ; 
Whether  in  England  we  behold  him, 
Fawning  round  tyrants  that  have  sold  him,. 
Licking  the  hand  that  chains  him  tio.vn 
To  bleed  for  honor  and  the  crown  ; 
Or  Ireland,  where  an  opposition 
To  chains  and  halters  is  sedition ; 
(And  'tis  confest  that  many  need  'e.n, 
Who  anarchy  entitle  freedom;) 
Or  whether  farther  we  advance, 
And  take  a  peep  at  reekingjPra?zcg; 
Where  sanguinary  Robespierre 
Serv'd  priests  as  we  do  poultry  here, 
And  thought  no  more  of  cutting  throats 
Of  men  and  women,  than  of  slioats ; 
Where  Bonaparte,  with  flag  unfurlM, 
Spreads  carnage  o'er  the  trembling  world, 
And  conquers  kingdoms,  states  and  nation?, 
Easier  than  lovers  do  their  passions  ; 
Or  Spain,  where  horrid  inquisition 
Extorts  the  curse  of  superstition; 
Or  Portugal,  where  priests  from  heav'n, 
To  people  are  as  one  t'  eleven ; 
Whether  a  Russian  Czar  he  shines, 
Or  labors  in  Siberian  mines; 
Or  pass  to  JUsia,  if  you  can, 
Whose  God's  a  corpulent  old  man.; 


EXORDIUM. 

,)r  Africa,  where  men  are  bartered 
For  gewgaws,  or  for  market  quartered  ; 
Or  BarVrifs  coast,  where  dread  Bashaws 
At  pleasure  make  and  break  their  laws ; 
Where  tyranny,  with  hungry  zeal, 
Devours  his  thousands  at  a  meal, 
Yet  hopes  to  rise  to  heav'n's  high  summit, 
Through  intercession  of  Mahomet. 

Or  whether  back  again  we  come, 
And  take  a  view  of  things  at  home  ; — 
At  Georgia's  southern  point  begin  ye, 
And  travel  up  through,  old  Virginia  ; 
What's  to  be  seen  where  people  boast 
Of  being  friends  to  freedom  most  ? 

Behold  the  lordly  planter  stand, 
The  lash  still  reeking  in  his  hand, 
O'er  the  poor  slave,  whose  only  sin  is 
That  his,  alas!  a  sable  skin  is; 
This  gives  the  wretch,  whose  hide  is  white,, 
To  Hay  him  an  undoubted  right; 
From  country  and  his  friends  compel  him, 
To  starve,  to  murder,  or  to  sell  him  ; 
Whose  treatment  crueller  and  worse  is3 
Than  that  of  cattle,  swine,  or  horses ; 
And  e'en  they  often  say  the  slave 
Has  not,  like  them,  a  soul  to  save, 


Are  you  republicans? — away  ! 
'Tis' blasphemy  the  word  to  say— 
You  talk,  of  freedom? — out  for  shame! 
i  our  lips  contaminate  the  name. 
How  dare  you  prate  ot  public  good. 
Your  hands  besaiear'd  with  human  blood? 
How  dare  you  lift  those  hands  to  heav'n, 
And  ask  or  hope  to  be  forgiv'n? 
How  dare  you  breathe  the  wounded  air, 
That  wafts  to  heav'n  the  negro's  pray'r? 
How  dare  you  tread  the  conscious  earth 
That  gave  mankind  an  equal  birth? 
And  while  you  thus  inflict  the  rod, 
How  dare  you  say  there  is  a  God 
That  will,  injustice,  from  the  skies/ 
Hear  and  revenge  his  creatures'  cries  ? 
•'  Slaves  to  be  sold,"  hark,  what  a  sound  f 
Ye  give  America  a  wound, 
A  scar,  a  stigma  of  disgrace. 
Which  time  nor  jou  can  e'er  efface; 
And  prove,  of  nations  yet  unborn, 
The  curse,  the  hatred,  and  the  scorn. 

And  eke,  behold  our  legislators 
Receiving  bribes,  and  turning  traitors; 
Our  judges,  governors,  and  sages, 
The  Catalines  of  modern  asres  % 
Our  clergy,  imps  of  superstition, 
Blowing  the  conk-shells  of  sedition^ 


EXORDIUM.  197 

All,  all  is  topsy-turvy  whirl'd, 
And  vice  and  folly  curse  the  world ; 
You  therefore  may  pronounce  an  oatb3 
Our  author  has  a  share  of  both  ; 
And  lie's  a  knave,  or  lost  his  senses, 
Who  to  perfection  makes  pretences* 

Yet  some  there  are  to  whom  belong 
The  raptures  of  the  poet's  song; 
Who  fiery  trials  have  withstood, 
And  prov'd  themselves  both  great  and  good* 
Amongst  our  worthies,  count  as  one, 
The  great,  the  peerless  JEFFERSON. 
Illustrious  Chief!  whose  wisdom  shows 
The  fountain  clear,  from  whence  it  flows; 
Whose  vast  and  philosophic  mind, 
Embraces  all  the  human  kind — 
Holds  to  that  faith  which  owns  men  brothers/ 
And  twenty  gods  allows  to  others", 
While  Europe's  threat'ning  postare  bore 
The  sword  of  war,  the  cup  of  gore ; 
Whose  ship;?  on  ours  made  depredations, 
And  broke  the  sacred  laws  of  nations ; 
At  home,  while  discord,  feuds,  and  treason. 
Late  menac'd  Freedom's  life  to  seize  on, 
His  firmness,  prudence,  and  his  skill 
Keep  peace  and  safety  with  us  still ; 
Columbia  triumphs  o'er  her  foes, 
And  smiles  and  blossoms  like  the  rose. 


But,  tardy  Muse,  come,  trudge  along,- 
And  close  th 2-- prefatory  song. 

Reader,  lay  prejudice  aside, 
And  let  calm  reason  be  your  guide  ; 
3 fin  the  following*  then,  you  find 
Things  not  so  pleasing  to  your  mind, 
And  think  them  false,  why,  disbelieve  them 
Errors  of  weakness  ?  then  forgive  them  ;  : 
And  let  our  sufPrings  and  abuses 
For  sev'ral/acfs  make  some  excuses  ; 
And  when  you're  capturVl  by  a  Turk,* 
Sit  down,  and  write  a  better  work, 


BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH 


THE  AUTHOR'S  LIFE,  &c. 

IN  the  preceding  poetical  Exordium,  which  was 
written  about  fifteen  years  ago,  Tor  a  volume  '^en 
titled  the  Horrors  of  Slavery,  are  contained  some 
accounts  of  the  birth  and  early  pursuits,  the  sen 
timents  and  blasted  hopes  of  the  author,  if  such 
he  may  be  called,  \\  inch  need  not  be  repeated  in 
thispUce,  aud  which,  perhaps,  ought  never  to  have 
been  published  ;  as  they  "have  been  construed  by 
most  readers,  as  promulgating  sentiments  involv 
ing  doubts  of  the  authenticity  of  the  Gospel,  and 
detracting  from  ti-e  faith  of  the  Christian  Reli 
gion  :  and  I  frankly  confess,  that  'at  the  time  the 
Exordium  \vas  penned,  my  mind,  for  a  number  of 
years  past,  had  been  s;>  bewildered  in  the  mazes 
•of  sop'sistry  which  iniulel  writers  had  invented  to 
entrap  the  young  and  unwary,  as  well  as  to  refute 
the  weak  and  illiterate  C'-l-ristiun  of  ail  ages;  so 
darkened  and  confused  by  the  very  light  which 
Christiana  pretended  to  walk  after,  and  which  led 
the>n  to  so  many  different  points  ;  so  shocked  and 
perplexed  at  the  virulent  hostility  which  ^ctu:i-^d 
one  sect  in  opposing  another,  arid  yet  all  profes- 
sifii-;  one  faith,  one  Lord,  and  011^  bapustn;  so 
starred  and  confounded  \vitlv  the  conduct  of 
-Chrisrian  member?,  whicb  appeared  to  belie  their 


200  SKETCH  OF  THE 

professions,  and  °;ave  reason  to  doubt  of  their  sin 
cerity,  tuat  I  was  almost  brought  to  the  conclu 
sion,  that  the  whole  system  of  the  Christian  Reli 
gion  was  a  tissue  of  deception,  the  offspring  of 
priestcraft,  the  instrument  of  tyranny,  and  the 
scourge  of  mankind.  But, 

''Truth,  ever  lovely,  since  the  world  began, 
"The  foe  of  tyrants,  and  tht  friend 


at  length  broke  through  the  glooms  of  "Doubt, 
the  mother  of  Dis-nay,"  and  I  now  no  more  ques 
tion  the  truth  of  the  Gospel,  than  I  do  the  fact  ot 
my  own  existence  ;  and  the  reason  why  the  Exor 
dium  is  retained  in  this  volume  is,  that  it  may  not  in 
future  be  adduced  to  prove  my  religious  tenets,  or 
rather  my  tenets  on  religion,  as  being  licentious, 
and  of  a  dangerous  tendency.  I  am  willing,  also, 
to  admit  what  must  be  obvious  to  every  one  who 
has  read  the  volume  following  the  poetry  here  spo 
ken  of,  that  the  style,  is  too  high  strung,  labored,  and 
of  course  deficient  in  perspicuity  and  elegance.  — 
But  atgreat  many  errors  were  committed  in  print 
ing,  and,  words  substituted  for  better  ones,  without 
my  knowledge  or  consent.  I  never  read  the 
proof-sheets,  and  i  believe  the  work  was  chiefly 
done  by  boys,  who  frequently  failed  in  finding  out 
the.  words  of  the  manuscript  copy,  and  often  £u?s- 
sed  where  it  was  obscure  ;  making  it  unintelligible 
where  it  was  before  plain,  and  contemptible  where 
it  was  before  tolerable. 

Having  nearly  finished  my  apologies,  I  shall  pro 
ceed  to  give  a  brief  sketch  of  my  life,  aruj  of  my 
sufferings  ainonp;  the  barbarians  of  Tripoli  ;  not 
flattering  myself,  however,  with  ihe  idea  that  my 
name,  my  character,  my  writings,  my  .sufferings  in 


AUTHOR'S  LIFE.  201 

Tripoli,  or  any  thing  that  I  have  done,  can  be  of  so 
great  importance  to  the  public  as  the  burning  of 
Moscow,  the  fall  of  Bonaparte,  or  the  coronatioa 
of  George  the  Fourth  Neither  have  I  the  vanity 
to  expect,  that  either  ray  poetry  or  my  biography 
will  attract  the  attention  of  Americans  like  the 
writings  of  Lord  Byron,  Sir  Walter  Scott,  Thom 
as  Moore  or  Thomas  Campbell,  Esquires,  the  least 
tract  of  whose  lives  would  be  scrambled  for  and 
read  with  avidity,  for 

"  Wh51e  ;»lo"g  tf:e  stream  of  life  their  name 
"  Expanded  flies  and  gathers  all  its  fame," 

it  cannot  be  hoped  that  my  little  bark  shall 


-"  Attendant  sail, 


"  Pursue  the  triumph,  and  partake  the  gale," 

although  it  should  be  freighted  with  all  the  riches 
of  Mittonian  lore,  ant!  boarded  by  ail  the  muses 
of  Parnassus.  Without  further  ceremony,  then,  I 
shall  introduce  myself  to  the  reader's  notice  for  a 
few  minutes  only,  faithfully  promising  that  if  my 
story  is  disagreeable,  it  shall  not  be  long,  and  that  if 
it  should  be  badly  told,  L  will  be  because  it  was 
not  in  my  power  to  tell  it  better. 

'  As  mentioned  in  the  Exordium,  I  was  ushered 
into  this  strange  world,  without  my  privity  or  vo 
lition,  in  the  town  of  Salisbury,  county  of  Litch- 
field,  and  state  of  Connecticut,  in  the  middle  of  a 
very  hard  winter;— in  order  to  show  me,  I  sup 
pose,  that  my  birth  was  to  be  po.  lentous  of  my 
fate — that  I  should  hav^  to  experience  the  cold 
ness  of  friendship,  t!*e  frost  of  disappointment,  and 
to  struggle  through  the  snow-drifts  of  adversity. 
S 


SKETCH  OF  THE 

My  father  was  neither  rich  nor  poor,  except  we 
apply  the  saying  to  him,  that  "he  is  rich  who  owes 
nothing," — for  1  believe  he  was  always  pretty  clear 
of  debt,  and  always  enjoyed  the  comforts  and  con 
veniences  of  life,  to  an  extent  that  forbid  murmur 
ing.  But  he  had  a  large  family,  and  it  was  not 
in  his  power,  as  it  was  not  much"in  the  fashion  in 
those  days,  to  do  a  great  deal  more  for  his  children 
than  to  give  them  a  common  school  education,  and 
of  course,  my  early  means  of  instruction  were 
sparingly  applied,  and  my  later  advantages  quite 
limited.  Before  I  ever  went  to  school,  and  I  think 
before  the  alphabet  was  taught  me,  iny  father,  who 
was  a  very  pious  man,  and  who  possessed  a  most 
astonishing  memory,  wishing  to  exercise  and 
strengthen  that  of  his  children,  as  well  as  to  incul 
cate  sentiments  of  piety,  gave  out  six  of  Watts' 
short  hymns  to  each  of  two,  a  brother  and  a  sister, 
older  than  myself,  with  a  promise  that  they  should 
have  a  shilling  a-piece,  provided  they  shuild  com 
mit  them  to  memory  in  a  certain  given  time. — 
When  the  day  of  recital  arrived,  my  father  was 
highly  gratified  to  find  that  my  brother  and  sister 
had  acquitted  themselves  with  a  laudable  zeal 
of  their  several  tasks  ;  and,  after  paying  them  the 
promised  reward,  turned  to  me  and  told  me,  that  [ 
must  make  haste  and  learn  to  read,  so  that  I  could 
receive  the  like  favor.  He  was,  however,  not  a 
little  surprised  and  delighted  in  being  informed 
that  I  could  repeat  the  whole  twelve  hymns  ve«§ba- 
tim,  from  hearing  them  read  by  others,  and  when 
satisfied  of  the  fa  of,  he  gave  me  as  much  as  both 
the  other  two.  With  this  feather  in  my  cap,  I 
inarched  oft'  to  school,  where  I  soon  outstripped 
every  boy  of  mv  age,  and  several  much  older,  in 
the  first  rudiments  of  our  language.  So  excellent 


AUTHOR'S  L1F®.  £05 

a  thing  is  it  to  encourage  children  when  quite 
young  in  the  pursuit  of  applause,  by  stimulating 
their  minds  to  exertion,  with  the  tempting  pros 
pect  of  reward  and  honor.  Emulation  seldom  fails 
of  attaining  its  objects,  whHe  tor>  much  severity 
often  crushes  genius  hi  the  bud.  My  first  teach 
er  was  a  gentleman  of  rare  qualifications  for  such 
a  calling.  He  united  the  most  mild  and  engaging 
manners,  with  the  most  inflexible  authority,  ami 
never  was  there  a  more  complete  adept  in  the  art 
of  physiognomy,  or  one  better  skilled  in  detecting 
the  latent  propensities  of  his  pupils  than  he  was. 
He  never  inflicted  punishment  where  it  was  not 
justly  due,  and  no  one  ever  escaped  who  stubbornly 
persisted  in  disobedience.  I  cannot  but  believe, 
that  it  is  of  far  greater  consequence  to  have'  our 
children  committed  to  the  care  of  teachers  in  their 
infancy,  who  are  capable  of  governing  them  rightly, 
and  teaching  them  correctly,  than  most  people  are 
willing  to  allow.  Many  a  promising  urchin  who 
has  been  ruined  and  made  a  dunce  of,  by  the  un 
reasonable  harshness,  or  stupid  insensibility  of  his 
tyrannizing  master,  might  be  cited  to  bear  testimo 
ny  to  the  truth  of  the  position  here  laid  down. — 
under  the  teacher  whom  1  l>ave  }ust  mentioned, 
the  children  made  a  most  rapid  progress  ;  and  un 
der  another  one  who  succeeded  him,  and  who  \vas 
exacily  the  reverse,  they  made  no  proficiency  at 
all.  except  in  mischief  and  play.  I  did  not  go  to 
the  latter  long  ;  for  my  father  was  about  to  re 
move  from  the  place.  I  remained  at  this  school 
until  about  eight  years  of  age,  by  which  time,  very 
few  boys  of  my  age,  could  pass  a  better  examina 
tion  in  the  common  branches  of  learning,  that*  I 
could.  Hitherto  had  I  seen  nothing  bat  the  sun 
shine  of  prosperity — nothing  but  unclouded  happi 
ne&s. 


204  SKETCH  OF  TRE 

The  bright  morning  of  my  life  began  to  be  sha 
ded — Death,  appalling  death,  laid  his  hands  upon 
a  little  sister  of  mine,  next  younger  than  myself, 
and  dragged  her  from  my  sight.  I  was  so  passion 
ately  fond  of  her,  tnat  the  separation  was  like  "di 
viding  the  joints  and  marrow."  For  several  years 
afterwards,  I  never  went  to  sleep  at  night,  withr 
out  paying  to  her  memory  the  sacrifice  of  tears,  and 
I  can  truly  say,,  that  as  this  was  my  beginning  of 
sorrow,  so  wa&  it  the  deepest  wound  that  my  heart 
ever  received.  Nearly  the  same  time,  my  sensi 
bility  received  another  severe  shock.  There  lived 
a  little  girl  in  the  neighborhood,  the  daughter  of  a 
widow,  an  only  child,  about  my  age,  and  with 
whom  many  a  playful  hour  had  passed,  still  re 
membered  with  delight  mingled  with  sorrow  at 
the  catastrophe.  One  evening  after  school,  as  we 
were  acting  our  childish  gambols  in  a  chamber 
which  had  no  bannisters  round  the  top  of  the 
stairs,  she  fell  backwards  from  the  top  to  the  boS- 
tom,  and  pitching  on  her  head  against  the  end  of 
a  whippletree,  fractured  her  skuSl  in  such  a  man 
ner  as  to  cause  her  death  the  same  night.  I  at 
tended  her  funeral  the  next  afternoon,  and  mourn 
ed  her  fete  as  deeply  sincere,  as  ever  a  lover  did 
that  of  his  mistress.  It  was  in  the  fall  of  the  year, 
and  I  shall  never  forget  the  plaintive  and  melan 
choly  cry  of  th&  crickets  at  evening,  which  seemed 
to  echo  her  name,  and  bewail  with  me  the  sudden 
stroke  of  death.  Time  has  not  been  able  to  obli 
terate  the  impressions,  and  to  this  day,  whenever 
I  hear  the  son<£  of  the  cricket,  it  invariably  reminds 
me  of  poor  little  Anna.  These  things  may  appear 
trifling  and  childish  j  but  her  death  is  of  as  much 
account  in.  the  eyes  of  heaven,  as  if  she  were  a 
Princess;  and  I  have  as  good  a  right  to  cherish 


AUTHOR'S  LIFE.  *OJ 

the  remembrance  of  my  early  attachments,  and  to 
relate  them  too,  as  if  I  were  the  Prince  of  Wales. 
The  only  difference  is,  their  relations  would  proba 
bly  be  read  with  the  most  eagerness.  I  had  al 
most  forgotten  to  remark,  that  by  this  time,  the 
Muses  began  to  whisper  in  my  ear  that  I  was  one 
of  their  favorites  by  nature,  and  must  permit  them 
to  conduct  me  to  the  Heliconian  fount,  and  give 
me  a  sip  of  inspiration.  They  furnished  me  with 
a  pair  of  wings;  and  the  first  eftart  which  1  made 
to  use  them,  was  directed  to  a  funeral  song  on  my 
favorite  little  Anna;  and  as  I  have  since  become 
a  great  poet,  if  not  a  good  one,  it  may  be  well 
enoagh  to  give  a  specimen  of  my  first  attempt. — 
The  following,  1  believe,  is  a  faithful  copy, — writ 
ten  when  I  was  abuut  ten  years  old : — * 


Poor  Anna,  she  is  dead  and  gone, 

I  saw  her  life  depart ; 
She's  left  a  mother  all  alone 

'Twill  break  her  tender  heart. 
A  Savior  answers,  "  <  ease  to  weep  ; 
'-  She  is  not  dead,  but  gone  to  sleep." 

I  saw  her  spotless  soul  arise 
Through  yonder  stars  of  even, 

Led  on  by  angels  of  the  skies, 
And  welcom'd  into  heaven  ; 

Yet  when  1  'woke  and  saw  her  shroud, 

I  could  not  help  but  weep  aloud. 

Since  revised  a::cl  corrected. 

S   2 


296  SKETCH  OF  THE 

And  is  it  sinful  thus  to  weep? 

My  conscience  answers,  no; 
When  wounds  of  sorrow  are  so  deep, 

Tears  must  have  room  to  flow ; 
And  who  can  hear  the  rumbling  clod 
Fall  on  her'coliin,  Oh !  my  God  ! 

And  not  a  shivering  horror  feel, 

At  such  a  death-like  sound  ! 
.     The  grave  is  fillM,  and  set  the  seal ; 

Lie  soft,  ye  hallowM  ground  ; 
Long  shall  the  weeds  that  on  you  grow, 
Be  nourished  by  the  tears  of  wo. 

It  is  true  the  minister  of  the  parish  pointed  out 
some  faults,  and  suggested  amendments,  in  the 
first  copy,  which  was  accordingly  corrected  ;  but 
he  pronounced  it  to  be  a  wonderful  production  for 
a  boy  like  me,  and  said  he  did  not  doubt,  that  with, 
the  same  advantages,  1  might  yet  make  as  great  a 
poet  as  Doctor  Watts.  It  is  needless  to  say  that 
the  flattering  compliments  which  were  paid  me 
ibr  this  juvenile  monody,  raised  my  ambition  to 
the  highest  pitch,  and  almost  made  me  forget  the 
sorrows  which  I  felt  at  Anna's  death,  in  listening 
to  the  plaudits  which  I  received  from  her  friends 
and  others  for  writing  her  elegy.  But  adieu,  ye 
painful,  blissful  recollections  1 

Shortly  after  this,  my  father  sold  his  property 
in  Connecticut,  and  removed  to  the  state  ot  New- 
York,  on  a  farm  comparatively  new  ;  where  I  was 
literally  buried  in  the  woods  for  several  years, 
without  much  chance  of  gratifying  my  passion  for 
classical  studies.  My  fattier,  however,  was  a  man 
of  extensive  reading,  and  had  something  of  a  col 
lection  ot"  books,  whose  contents  1  devoured  with 


AUTHOR'S  LIFE, 

;  voracity  never  satiated.  The  first  teacher  which 
I  was  sent  to,  in  this  wooden  country,  was  an  old 
Englishman,  as  captious  and  despotic  as  he  was  il 
liberal  and  impotent.  He  was  I  believe  about  six 
ty,  quite  lame,  and  very  corpulent.  As  he  flog 
ged  the  boys  frequently  for  less  than  nothing,  they 
in  turn  tormented  him  without  reason,  and  avoid 
ed  his  lash  without  much  difficulty.  It  was  lu 
dicrous  enough  to  witness  the  scenes  which  were 
daily  acted  in  the  school, 

"  Fuli  well  the  boding  trembl  rs  learn'd  lo  trace 
"  The  day's  disasters  in  his  morning  face ;" 

and  the  old  man  might  pretty  well  judge  of  his 
day's  peace,  on  taking:  his  seat  in  the  morning, 
when  he  found  in  the  bottom  of  the  chair  a  dozen 
ianie  pins  fixed  point  upwards,  for  the  reception 
of  the  venerable  pedagogue.  In  such  a  case,  ha 
would  fly  at  every  one  in  the  school,  belaboring 
every  one  he  could-reach ,  with  his  crutch  or  his  rod, 
without  discrimination  or  mercy ;  and  the  only 
way  was  to  leave  the  house,  and  keep  out  of  hfs 
way  until  he  became  pacified.  The  next  manceu- 
vre  would  be  to  snatch  the  chair  from  under  him 
when  going  to  sit  down  ;  which  would  brin^  him 
to  the  floor  with  a  tremendous  noi«e  ;  and  whence 
he  found  it  quite  difficult  to  raise  himself,  without 
assistance,  being  very  heavy,  and  crippled  wit' al. 
~No  sooner  was  the  old  man  up  and  well  seated 
again,  than  some  dingy  ro^ue  would  snatch  off  his 
wig  behind  him,  and  another  battle  would  ensue. 
One  time  the  mischievous  school  boys  contrived  it 
so,  after  a  severe  flowing,  as  to  revenge  themselves 
to  their  full  satisfaction.  The  ui.der  floor  ot  the 
school -house  was  not  fastened  down  there  were 
several  short  boards,  and  something  of  a  hole  or 


208  SKETCH  OF  THE 

cellar  underneath,  where  the  water  was  abouta  foot 
elerp,  and  it  was  cold  weather,  late  in  the  fall.— - 
They  fixed  the  boards  in  such  a  manner  with  his 
chair  set  on  them,  as  Ihe  moment  he  sat  down,  they 
gave  wny,  and  the  old  man  fell  full  souse  into  the 
hole  below,  water,  mud  and  all.  For  my  part,  I 
was  most  horribly  frightened,  and  really  thought  the 
luckless  knight  of  the  ferula  had  broken  his  neck. 
But,  anon,  such  horrid  imprecations  issued  from  the 
regions  below,  as  convinced  me  at  once,  that  his 
breath  was  not  stopped  yet.  Some  of  the  stoutest 
boys  dragged  the  old  man  out  of  the  hole,  all  mud 
and  water,  with  his  wig  gone,  and  half  dead  with 
the  fall.  This  was  made  up,  and  the  next  prank 
they  played  with  him,  was : — four  of  his  largest  pu 
pils,  it  being  war-time,  dressed  themselves  like  In 
dians  and  way-laid  him  in  a  piece  of  woods  which 
he  had  to  pass,  with  muskets  charged  with  powder. 
Thus  prepared,  they  rose  upon  him  with  a  horrid 
yell,  discharged  their  pieces  and  pursued  him 
which  frightened  him  so  that  he  hobbled  for  half  a 
mile  through  the  woods,  with  all  his  might,  crying 
murder  at  %every  step  This  was  the  last  scene  in 
the  great  drama.  The  poor  old  man  never  attempt 
ed  to  keep  school  another  day  in  that  place. 

We  now  removed  a  few  miles  to  a  neighborhood 
of  better  society,  and  on  a  farm  much  more  impro 
ved  ;  where  there  was  a  tolerably  good  school  for 
those  times  ;  but  I  never  found  a  teacher  but  that 
I  could  run  down  in  a  very  short  time;  so  that 
books  were  my  best  dependence,  and  my  own  ex 
ertions  all  my  support  I  got  hold  of  Milton's 
Paradise  Lost,  which  I  read  frequently  till  after 
midnight,  and  committed  the  whole  of  the  three 
first  books  to  memory  ;  together  with  a  considera 
ble  part  of  all  the  rest;  particularly  the  eighth 


AUTHOR'S  LIFE.  209 

and  ninth.  I  was  so  struck  with  the  awful  grati- 
deur  of  that  immortal  bard,  that  I  really  thought 
him  some  celestial  being;  and  so  enraptured  with 
the  explanation  which  he  gives,  in  the  third  book, 
of  the  doctrine  concerning  free  grace,  arid  salva 
tion  made  possible  to  all,  iu  contradistinction  to 
the  tenets  of  Calvinism,  which  I  found  irrecon 
cilable  to  my  ideas  of  the  justice  and  goodness  of 
a  Being  who  had  taught  me  in  his  holy  word  to 
call  him  by  the  endearing,  name  of  Father,  that, 
next  to  the  sacred  scriptures,  I  have  always  es 
teemed  Paradise  Lost  as  one  of  the  best  treasures 
of  wisdom  ever  given  to  the  world,  independently 
of  the  transcendant  sublimity  and  richness  of  the 
poetry.  The  passage  which  I  allude  to,  in  the 
third  book,  is  where  the  Father  is  addressing  the 
Son  on  the  subject  of  the  revolt  of  the  angels,  and 
of  the  fall  of  man,  he  says— 


-They  themselves  decreed 


Their  own  revolt,  rot  I  ;  if  I  foreknew, 

Foreko<~  wled ^e  had  no  i-fluenre  on  their  fall, 

Which  had  no  less  p-rovd  certain  unforeknown. 

Sf»,  without  ieasi  impulse,  or  ^h^lowot  fate, 

Of  ?.ught  by  me  immutably  foreseen, 

They  trespass,  airhors  to  themselves  in  all, 

Both  what  they  judge  a;-d  what  they  choose;  for  sa 

I  form'd  them  free,  and  free  they  mu$t  remain 

Till^they  inthral  themselves ;  1  else  n  list  change 

The^r  nature,  and  revoke  thehl^h  decree 

Unchangeable,  eternal,  which  ordain'd 

Their  freedom,-     THEY     THEMSELVES    ORDAIN'D 

THEIR    FALL. 

This  I  deemed  a  triumphant  acquisition ;  for  I 
not  only  had,  as  I  thought,  the  Bible  on  my  side, 
but  the  great,  the  peerless  Milton  also— who  had 


£10'  SKETCH  OS?  THE 

so  clearly  expounded  the  mysterious  doctrine  oF 
predestination,  and  so  completely 

11  Justified  the  ways  of  GotI  to  man." 

The  Methodists  now  began  to  appear,  and  I  went 
to  hear  one  of  their  most  distinguished  preacher*. 
He  \vas  a  very  eloquent  man  ;  and  com  batted  the 
dogmas  of  Calvinism  with  ingenuity,  and  with 
arguments  from  scripture,  which  L  considered  un 
answerable.  1  was  quite  enraptured  with  his  dis^ 
course,  and  almost  overpowered  by  the  thunder  of 
his  eloquence.  He  read  and  sung  these  words—- 

"  Cone  tinners  to  the  Gospel  feast, 
I.,et  cv'rv  tout  b^  Jesus'  fyuest  ; 
Ye  need  not  one  he  left  bcliinJ, 
For  God  hath  bidden  all  max&ir.d." 

This  sermon  and  the  whole  performance,  was 
so  different  from  what  I  had  been  wont  to  hear; 
so  much  more  consonant  to  my  ic'eas  of  the  char 
acter  and  attributes  of  Eternal  Love,  contrasted 
with  the  character  of  the  Almighty,  represented 
as  bearing  eternal  hatred  to  the  reprobates,  who 
are,  as  Mr.  Wesley  says,  "  damned  for  not  believ 
ing  a  lie,"  and  consigned  to  everlasting  punish 
ment  for  fulfilling  the  decrees  of  their  Maker, 
that  I  felt  joy  unspeakable.  I  hope,  however, 
that  many  a  pious  Christian  who  assents  to  these 
horrid  tenets,  does  it  without  considering  their 
tendency,  as  involving  the  brightest  perfections  of 
Deity  in  the  inevitable  charge  of  cruelty  and  in 
justice. 

The  next  author  which  t  read,  with  remembered 
delight,  was  Doctor  Young.  The  deep-toned  mel 
ody  of  his  numbers — his  bold  figures*  and  bolder 


AUTHOR'S  LIFE.  £11 

apostrophe — his  striking  antitheses  and  -brilliant 
ihi'u's  of  genius  bis  pathetic  mourning  over  de 
parted  friendship — his  caustic  satire  on  folly,  and 
tremendous  broadsides  of  raillery  at  infidelity  and 
vice,  were  read  by  me  with  deep  interest,  while 
Yuung,  and  many  of  his  sparkling  images,  are  yet 
'•bright  to  my  recollection. 

"  Tbtn  tuneful  Pope,  whom  »H  the  K;ne  inspire, 
With  Sapphic  swetiKOs*  ?.-d  Pindaric  tire, 
J'uinei-  o:  ver»e  nii'i.uliotisatid  mvine, 
Next  Young  ;md  ^iituu  shall  distinguish* '1  slanc.'' 

Pope's  Essay  on  Man  [  committed  to  memory 
before  I  was  aware  of  it,  and  Uefore  I  was  twelve 
years  old,  I  now  and  then  began  to  flap  my  wings, 
and  try  experiments  in  rhyme.  Butlers  Hudi- 
bras  fell  into  my  hands,  and  I  was  much  pleased 
with  his  wit,  as  well  as  with  the  measure  of  his  po 
etry.  Him  I  tried  to  imitate,  thinking  it  easier  to 
assimilate  to  his  method,  than  any  other.  Ett  the 
first  attempt^wliich  I  made  in  this  new  armor,  liked 
to  have  cost  me  a  severe  drubbing,  if  nothing  more. 
There  was  an  old  widow  in  the  neighborhood)  who 
had  married  an  officer  just  from  the  army,  a  mere 
fortune-hunter,  who  wanted  nothing  of  the  old 
woman  but  the  handling  of  her  property,  and 
when  he  found  out  there  was  not  much  to  be  ex 
pected  from  her  but  flesh  and  bones,  he  grew  in 
tolerably  cross,  and  used  to  flog  the  poor  old  crea 
ture  at  every  pretext  which  he  could  invent,  in  or 
der  to  extort  from  her  "better  picking  an  oi.g  the 
crumbs.5'  He  finally  turned  out  to  be  a  most  in 
famous  villain  in  every  respec* — quarrelsome  and 
abusive  to  his  neighbors — dissipated  and  worth 
less  on  every  account — hated  and  despised  by  eve 
ry  body.  It  was  none  of  my  business  to  meddle 


312  SKETCH  OF  THE 

with  him,  however,  as  he  did  not  disturb  me ;  but 
I  bad  the  vanity  to  think  that  1  could  raise  the 
laugh  a<rainst  him,  and  gain  some  applause  among 
the  neighbors  by  lashing  hi  TI  in  doggerels  ;  which, 
as  they  ct>st  me  a  good  deal  of  trouble,  1  have  nev 
er  forgotten  to  this  day.  They  were  as  follows : — 

There  lives  a  man  whose  heart  is  dross, 
Who,  though  no  papist,  bears  a  cross 
In  ev'ry  look — hell  in  his  features— 
The  most  detestable  of  creatures. 
In  war  he  held  a  low  position, 
And  now  in  crimes  a  high  commission; 
Still  fond  of  bloodshed  and  of  battle, 
He  fights  his  neighbors — kills  their  cattle; 
And  further  to  prolong  the  strife, 
Flogs  his  own  flesh  aud  bones — his  wife. 

What  shall  be  done  to  such  a  hero, 
As  base  and  cruel  as  a  Nero? 
What  shall  be  done  to  such  a  wretch, 
Except  the  villain's  neck  you  stretch, 
But  when  again  the  storm  he  gathers, 
To  clothe  him  with  a  coat  of  feathers  j 
Unlike  the  one  he  wore  in  war, 
Of  tissued  cloth — but  made  of  far: — 
Or,  should  this  mild  expedient  fail, 
Then  try  the  virtues  of  a  rail. 

By  some  means  or  other,  the  O'd  man  got  sight 
of  these  lines,  and  found  out  who  wrote  them.  He 
swore  vengeance ;  and  from  that  time  until  he  ran  a- 
way,  which  was  about  six  months  aft  PI  wards,  I  avoid 
ed  hii'i  as  I  would  a  tiger;  often  ju.nping  over  the 
fences  and  running  across  lots,  when  likely  to  meet 
him.  The  fact  is,  I  was  almost  constant! v"  afraid  of 


AUTHOR'S  LIFE.  3T3 

losing  my  life,  lor  I  knew  him  to  be  as  revengeful 
as  an  Indian.  Thus  I  paid  pretty  dear  for  ir.y 
whistle.  When  about  sixteen,  I  got  myself  into  -a 
literary  squabble.  There  was  an  old  gentleman 
who  rode  post,  and  brought  us  the  papers  ;  a  pro 
per  old  fanatic  in  religion,  who  fancied  himself  oc 
casionally  inspired,  and  published  a  pamphlet  enti 
tled  "  The  Aiann  to  the  World;"  making  use  of 
the  three  frogs  mentioned  in  the  16th  Chapter  of 
Revelations.  1  should  not  have  disturbed  the  old 
lunatic,  if  he  had  not  attacked  the  raethodists;  but 
his  doing  so  called  forth  my  resentment,  for  I  lov 
ed  their  doctrine,  although  1  could  not  approve  of 
their  enthusiasm  ;  and  it  was  their  doctrine  which 
he  made  the  point  of  his  assault.  I  wrote  a  long 
string  of  bombastic  rhymes,  and  sent  the  communi 
cation  to  the  printer  by  the  old  man  himself,  who 
su  ppressed  their  publication,  and  sent  me  a  long  po 
etical  epistle  without  rhyme  or  reason  in  answer,  to 
which  I  returned  a  short  reply  and  heard  no  more 
of  it.  My  first  piece  began  and  ended  in  the  adop 
ted  language  of  the  old  saint  himself,  turned  iatc 
verse. 

Descend  from  heav'n,  ye  sparks  divine, 
On  this  old  crazy  pate  of  mine, 
And  I  shall  utter  greater  wonders 
Than  ever  broke  from  fourteen  thunders. 
And  more  alarm  the  drowsy  world, 
Than  all  the  bolts  they  ever  hurl'd. 

In  sixteenth  chapter  Revelations, 
A  bonk  perplexing  to  all  miti  <n>*, 
Till  by  the  light  of  mv  old  brain, 
It*  darkest  doubts  are  rendered  plain, 
Three  frogs  are  mentioned — but  for 
"T 


jji4  SKETCH  OF  THfc 

No  one  can  tell  on  earth  but  I : 
Brim-full  of  holy  inspiration, 
I  here  pour  out  my  explanation. 
Beginning,  then,  at  frog  the  first, 
By  far  the  greatest  and  the  worst, 
And  giving  all  my  learning  scope, 
I  take  this  frog  to  be  the  Pope ; 
Of  noise  and  pride  a  windy  full  frog, 
In  other  words,  a  monstrous  bull-frog; 
Such  as  in  Windham  tun'd  their  breath, 
/\nd  scar'd  the  people  half  to  death. 
The  second  frog  my  witticism 
Pronounces  to  be  methodism ; 
A  thing  my  righteous  soul  abhors. 
As  bad  as  Satan  does  and  worse; 
It  takes  away  our  reprobation, 
And  offers  ev'ry  one  salvation — 
Makes  God  impartial,  just  and  pure, 
But  leaves  the  devil  insecure  ; 
"While  unconditional  election, 
Builds  up  his  kingdom  to  perfection,  - 
The  choice  of  reprobates  controls, 
Long  since  decided  at  the  polls, 
He  has  a  mortgage  on  their  souls. 

Now  frog  the  last,  though  not  the  least, 

I  judge  to  be  a  Baptist  priest, 

•Who  ev'ry  body  knows  is  fond 

Of  diving  in  a  brook  or  pond, 

The  very  element  of  frogs: — 

The  cmfdren's  bread  he  throws  to  dogs, 

Denies  the  infant  soap  and  suds 

To  wasii  his  little  dirty  duds, 

By  sin  original  deep  stain'd, 

As  Saybrook  Platform  has  ordainM  : 


AU  niOR'S  LIFE,  21 J 

While  I  more  charitably  hold, — 
Infants  are  UaiuuM  as  \vell  as  old. 

This  is  not  half  of  what  I  wrote  ;  but  this  is  e- 
nough  to  show  witii  what  spirit  I  wrote  it.  The 
truth  is,  the  ok!  man's  pamphlet  was  not  worth  no 
ticing,  and  ought  not  to  have  been  either  read  or 
burlesqued. 

When  about  nineteen,  I  went  to  reside  in 
Dover,  county  of  Dutchess,  where  I  took  a  school/ 
just  vacated  by  Zebulon  R.  Shipherd,  now 
a  distinguished  lawyer  in  the  county  of  Washing 
ton,  and  where  I  remained  about  two  years,  con 
stantly  attending  the  Methodist  meetings  for 
about  a  year,  when  I  found  that  there  were  a 
£reat  many  among  them  whose  private  characters 
\vereirifumous,  while  they  were  pretending  to  ab 
solute  perfection.  I  began  to  doubt — quit  them, 
and  was  wretched.  I  would  advise  no  man  ever  to 
forsake  any  religious  society  to  which  he  feels  him 
self  attached  by  principle,  on  account  of  the  un- 
wort  hi  ness  of  some  of  its  members.  It  commonly 
ends  in  a  disregard  for  all  religious  societies,  and 
consequently  in  ruin  and  misery.  While  living 
here,  and  pursuing  my  studies  at  intervals  of  bu 
siness  with  unabating  ardor,  I  wrote  a  piece  of 
poetry  on  the  return  of  spring,  which  attracted 
some  notice,  and  1  had  to  give  a  number  of  copies 
to  different  friends,  one  of  which  was  written  the 
January  following,  and  was  dated  at  the  bottom 
the  day  of  that  month  in  which  the  copy  was 
made.  A  brother  pedagogue  in  the  vicinity,  who 
had  received  the  advantages  of  a  liberal  education, 
and  made  some  pretensions  to  poetry  himself,  hap 
pened  to  get  hold  of  this  copy,  and  undertook  to 
ridicule  me  for  the  blunder  I  had  made  in  the 
date  of  my  poem.  He  sent  me  a  poetical  ehM- 


216  SKETCH  OF  THK 

fenge,  as  illiberal  as  il  was  abusive;  for  he 
at  least  ten  years  older  than  myself,  had  enjoyed  su 
perior  advantages,  and  was  actually  under  obli 
gations  to  me,  which  none  but  an  ingrate  would 
have  disregarded.  He  must  have  known,  too, 
that  there  was  no  real  blunder  in  the  piece,  whicli 
described  the  scenery  and  the  birds  of  Spring  ; — 
even  the  heading  it  with  the  word  spring,  was 
sufficient  to  show  when  it  was  composed.  He, 
however,  addressed  his  piece,—"  To  the  Bard 
who  described  spring  on  the  4th  of  January/'  and 
says  in  one  part  of  it, 

u  The  crow,  the  snow-bird,  and  the  jay, 
"Are  all  the  birds  that  sing  this  way." 

I  was  so  provoked  at  his  unmannerly  and  ungen 
erous  attack,  that  my  only  object  was  to  retaliate, 
and  make  him  feel  my  resentment.  He  had  some 
sore  spots  on  his  character,  and  these  1  endeavor 
ed  to  hit,  not  much  caring  whether  the  poetry 
were  good  or  bad.  I  wrote  quite  a  long  string  of 
verses,  which  it  is  not  worth  while  to  repeat,  end- 
ins  in  this  manner : — 


o 


Before  I  close  my  epic  poem, 

I'll  mark  the  Bard  that  all  may  know  ?im  : — 

He's  branded  on  the  forehead  high, 

With  letters  plain  to  ev'ry  eye : — 

M — stands  for  monkey,  mole,  and  mule, 

I — for  an  Indian, — T — for  tool ; 

C — means  a  coxcomb,  coward,  'cog ; 

II — hanging,  hen-roost,  hawk,  and  hog  ; 

E — stands  for  envy,  ever  evil, 

And  L — concludes  the  name — - of  Devil. 


AUTHOR'S  LIFE.  217 

He  broke  the  close  of  sense,  of  reason, 

A. id  srray'd  away -in  Winter  season; 

Whoever  will  return  said  bard, 
.Shall  have  a  reasonable  reward. 

These  lines,  though  not  very  poetical,  stung 
him  to  the  quick.  I  had  the  advantage  of 
him  in  one  respect ;  my  character  was  fair,  and 
his  was  vulnerable.  He  could  say  nothing  ill  of 
me,  except  he  lied.  I  could  say  much  of  him  and 
speak  the  truth.  He,  however,' replied  to  my  dit 
ty  in  a  full  sheet  of  lofty  rhymes.  I  shall  only 
give  the  introduction  as  a  specimen:— 

From  Helicon  descend,  ye  heavenly  Nine, 
Who  claim  your  births  and  origin  divine  ; 
Who  raisM  sublimely  sightless  Milton's  mind, 
To  soar  above  and  leave  this  globe  behind  ; 
To  storm  Heav'n's  ramparts,  scan  th'  eternal 

plains, 
Where  angels  fought,  pull'd  hair,  and  beat  out 

brains ; 

Not  these  dread  scenes,  nor  those  which  Ho 
mer  view'd, 

Of  warring  men,  of  battle,  and  of  blood, 
Are  fit  to  vie  with  what  1*11  soon  relate, 
Nor  all  the  events  of  past  or  future  fate, 
Afford  a  theme  so  weighty,  so  divine, 
v_  So  mighty  wonderful  as  this  of  mine. 

Now  let  the  muse  what  she  foresees  declare, 
And  soon,  depend,  I'll  make  all  D  -ver  stare; 
I'll  lift  his  fame  to  strike  the  highest  star, 
His  deeds,  which  far  transcend  all  feats  of  war, 
Shall  in  my  numbers  live  to  latest  time, 
And  bloom  and  flourish  in  immortal  rhyme. 

T  3 


518  SKETCH  OF  THE 

This  flaming  poem  went  off  in  a  quip.     It  was 

"  Like  a  tale  told  by  an  ideot;  lull  of 
"Soumi  and  fury,  signifying  nothing." 

I  wrote  a  short  reply,  which  I  have  entirely  for 
gotten,  and  have  never  heard  what  has  become  of 
him  since. 

1  now  entered  upon  a  new  scene  ;  went  to  live 
as  a  clerk  in  a  store  ;  took  the  small  pox  the  natu 
ral  way,  and  came  very  near  losing  my  life.  la 
1792,  1  entered  into  the  mercantile  business  in 
partnership  with  another,  with  fair  prospects  of  do 
ing  well :  Bat  an  embargo  being  laid  the  year  af 
ter,  when  we  had  a  considerable  quantity  of  pro 
duce  on  hand,  for  which  we  had  paid  a  high  price, 
this  circumstance  sowed  the  seeds  of  all  my  future 
calamities  ;  for  although  we  continued  business  for 
two  or  three  j  ears  afterwards,  in  hopes  of  finally  re 
trieving  the  losses  which  we  had  sustained,  in  be 
ing  compelled  to  dispose  of  tur  produce  at  a  great 
sacrifice,  in  order  to  make  remittances,  so  as  to 
keep  business  going  on,  yet  we  were  never  able 
to  surmount  the  difficulties  which  this  first  shock 
brought  upon  us,  and  we  ultimately  had  to  fail. — 
Knowing  for  myself  that  my  intentions  had  been 
perfectly  honest,  I  did  not  doubt  but  that  our  credi 
tors  would  act  like  reasonable  men,  and  either, 
compromise  on  taking  all,  give  a  letter  of  licence, 
or  sign  a  petition  for  a  discharge  under  the  insol 
vent  act.  But  they  would  do  neither;  and  the 
consequences  were,  I  was  kept  under  the  harrow 
eternally  afterwards.  Their  pretext  was,  that 
my  partner  had  conducted  very  improperly,  which 
was  in  fact  the  case,  and  they  would  not  release 
me,  even  if  I  should  paj  one  half  the  demands.— 


AUTHOR'S  LIFE  21.S 

Like  Tray  in  the  fable,  I  had  to  suffer  for  being 
found  in  bad  company.  For  five  or  six  years,  I 
was  constantly  harassed  by  creditors,  while  my 
partner,  who  had  in  a  great  measure  been  the  ulti 
mate  if  not  the  primary  cause  of  my  embarrass 
ments,  slipped  his  neck  out  of  the  toils  by  going 
oft' to  Canada,  and  leaving  me  to  bear  the  burthen 
alone.  In  the  mean  time,  I  had  contracted  matri 
mony,  which  was  a  very  imprudent  step  at  such  a 
time.  I  tried  various  expedients  to  get  a  living, 
and  disengage  myself  from  the  thraldom  of  insol 
vency;  but  all  to  no  purpose.  Fortune  frowned 
upon  me  in  every  enterprize,  and  I  was  driven  to 
almost  absolute  distraction.  My  mind  had  been 
greatly  agitated  on  religious  subjects: — I  had  read 
Voltaire.  Paine's  Age  of  Reason,  and  Volney's 
"Ruins;  which,  all  together,  liked  to  have  ruined 
me.  I  beg^ii  to  think  indeed,  that  truth  lay  in 
the  bottom  of  a  well,  too  deep  for  common  minds 
to  fathom  ;  that  the  Christian  Religion  was  like  all 
others,  the  instrument  which  power  used  to  subdue 
resistance,  either  by  force  or  by  persuasion  ;  and 
that  mankind  in  general  were  half  fools,  and  half 
demons.  In  such  circumstances,  and  with  such  a 
view  of  things,  it  was  not  only  sure  that  I  must  be 
wretched,  but  impossible  that  I  should  be  other 
wise.  The  soul  cannot  be  forever  on  the  wing 
any  more  than  the  bird  of  paradise,  or  Noah's  dove. 
It  must  have  a  resting  place,  and  mine  had  none. 
Tossed  by  the  storms  of  adversity,  and  lost  in  the 
darkness  of  skepticism,  it  knew  not  where  to 
steer,  and  saw  riot  whereto  light.  The  floods  of 
affliction  had  not  yet  subsided  ;  there  was  no  ark 
of  safety,  and  I  had  no  where  to  set  the  sole  of  my 
foot.  I  shall  not  pretend  to  justify  all  my  con 
duct  during  this  reign  of  trouble.  Strange  if  I 


«SO  SKETCH  OF  THE 

should  not  have  gone  into  excesses  —  strange  that  I" 
commit  ted  no  more.  For  a  long  time  1  had  not 
paid  any  attention  to  the  muses,  and  like  other 
coy  ladies,  to  be  won  they  must  be  caressed.  — 
There  was  a  young  coxcomb  in  the  place  whom  I 
had  rather  slighted,  as  I  always  did  that  class  of 
two-footed  animals,  and  to  revenge  himself  he  sent 
me  a  copy  of  very  flat  verses,  headed  with  "  1'ride 
will  have  a  fait?'  and  meanly  reflecting  on  my 
comparative  situation.  To  which  I  returned  ih*v 
folio  wings 

To  MR.  - 

In  ignorance  you  lie,  secure  from  all, 
For  he  who  never  rose,  can 


I  late  receiv'd  your  lines  with  pleasure, 
Perus'd  them  o'er  and  o'er  at  leisure  ; 
Coincident  with  your  command,  sir, 
I  take  nr.y  pen  to*  write  an  answer:  — 
But  oh  !  how  vain  for  me  to  strive 
At  such  perfection  to  arrive! 
Vain  as  'twould  be  for  me  to  think 
To  blot  the  sun  with  per.  and  ink, 
To  call  the  stars  by  name  and  number, 
To  raise  the  dead  from  soundest  slurabei, 
To  conjure  spiritsgood  or  evil, 
Or  e'en  to  raise  the  very  devil. 

But  since  you've  made  an  introduction* 
Pray  sir,  continue  your  instruction  ; 
Without  the  smallest  doubt  or  scruple, 
I  soon  shall  make  a  forward  pupil  ; 
Shall,  like  yourself,  in  arts  excel, 
And  learn  to  read  and  write  and  spell  ^ 
I'll  try  ;  nor  think  in  vaia  my  hope, 


AUTHOR'S  LIFE.  221 

To  equal  Milton,  Waits  or  Pope  ; 
Like  Hudibras,  I'll  make  all  jingle, 
And  challenge  Horace  and  M'Fingal ; 
Still  strive  in  vain  to  beat  your  copy- 
Then  throw  my  pen  and  ink  to  Joppa, 

In  1803,  still  struggling  with  misfortunes  too 
painful  to  recapitulate,  I  started  in  the  spring  to 
make  one  effort  more  for  amending  my  broken  con 
dition  ;  and  wandering  in  a  southern  direction, 
"seeking  rest, and  finding  none,"  having  lost  my 
horse  on  the  way  by  sickness,  and  after  having 
been  arrested  in  my  journey  by  a  fever,  which  con 
fined  me  to  my  bed  for  a  considerable  time,  and 
nearly  drained  my  pockets  of  cash,  I  arrived  at 
Philadelphia,  where  I  had  a  flattering  prospect  of 
finding  a  situation  as  an  Editor,  at  thirty  dollars  a 
month  ;  but  I  had  been  so  long  in  reaching  there, 
from  causes  just  mentioned,  that  another  man  was 
employed,  and  of  course  I  lost  the  birth.  My  pe 
cuniary  means  were  totally  exhausted — among 
strangers — too  high-spirited  to  let  my  actual  situa 
tion  be  known — too  proud  to  ask  charity,  and  too 
honest  to  steal  or  rob ; — in  a  paroxysm  of  half  des 
pair  and  half  insanity,  I  entered  onboard  the  ill- 
fated  U.  S.  frigate  Philadelphia,  then  lying;  in  the 
Delaware,  in  a  low  capacity,  without  either  inqui 
ring  or  caring  where  she  was  bound  ;  determined 
to  tight  my  way  to  belter  times,  or  perish  in  the 
attempt — no  matter  which.  It  was  the  3d  day  of 
July,  1803,  when  I  went  on  board  :  every  thing 
was  in  confusion,  the  ship  preparing  for  sea  with, 
all  possible  dispatch,  and  my  fare  for  several  days 
gave  me  some  reason  to  think  that  a  man  of  war 
was  no  placp  to  find  repose.  As  I  then  wrote 
rvhat  was  adjudged  to  be  an  excellent  hand,- which 


SKETCH  OF  THE 

was  soon  found  out  by  the  officers,  and  conducting 
my  self  with  circumspection,  it  was  not  long  be 
fore  I  was  noticed  and  taken  into  the  wardroom 
to  write  tor  the  officers,  where  I  was  treated  with 
the  utmost  delicacy  and  kindness,  particularly  by 
Lt.  Hunt  ;  although  my  feelings  were  constantly 
wounded  at  the  severity  which  I  had  to  witness 
towards  a  great  many  poor  desponding  wretches- 
who  had  entered  on  board  from  necessity  more 
than  choice.  There  was  almost  one  incessant  out 
cry  of  men  writhing  under  the  rope's  end  or  the 
cat. —  Having  in  a  former  publication,  entered  my 
protest  against  the  barbarous  practice  of  flogging 
men  like  dogs  to  make  them  behave  like  sailors;, 
and  having  enjoyed  the  pleasure  of  seeing  such 
practice  reprobated  by  our  government,  and  abol 
ished  by  congress,  1  shall  not  dwell  any  longer  ou 
a  subject  which  I  hope  it  is  unnecessary  to  revive, 
the  bare  thoughts  of  which  awaken  feelings  of  no  use 
to  cherish. — Our  frigate  was  commanded  by  Capt. 
Bainbridge,  who  was  thought  by  many  of  the  sail 
ors  to  be  a  good  officer,  and  he  certainly  gave  me 
no  reason  to  complain  as  to  myself.  Mr.  Jone?> 
the  second  Lieutenant,  who  has  since  distinguished 
himself  so  handsomely,  was  a  calm,  mild  and  judi 
cious  officer,  beloved  by  all  the  seamen  Mr. 
M'Donough,  now  the  Commodore  and  hero  of  Lake 
Cham  plain,  was  a  midshipman  on  board  ;  as  was 
also  the  intrepid  Capt.  Biddle,  and  the  unfortunate 
Mr.  Gibbons,  who  was  burnt  in  the  Charleston 
Theatre.  On  the  12th  July,  we  dropped  down 
to  Fort  Penn,  where  we  lay  several  days,  and 
then  fell  down  the  river  as  far  as  New-Castle.— 
Here  we  took  in  water,  provisions,  &c.  After  re 
maining  here  a  few  days,  Lt.  Jones  arriving  from 
New-York  with  between  thirty  and  forty  mea 


AUTHOR'S  LIFE.  223 

whom  he  had  shipped  there,  and  being  now  fully  pre  - 
pared,  and  having  our  pilot  on  bo'-rd,  we  descend 
ed  the  river,  a. id  on  the  27th,  dismissing  the  piiot3 
-we  .soon  lost  sight  of  the  happiest  shores  on  earth. 


CHAP.  II. 

To  £iiard  our  commerce  from  ascailin2;  foes— 
Their  insults  to  repel — their  fleets  oppose; 
O'ir  rights  **  assert  to  navigate  the  main, 
In  snit'e  of  England,  Barb'ry,  France  or  Spain  ; 
To  show  base  oirates  for  defence  we  meant 
T'  expand  whole  millions — tribute — not  a  cent — 
For  this  our  pin^s,  proud  monarchs  of  the  wood, 
BowM  to  the  dust,  and  kiss'd  the  raging  flood  ; 
For  this  our  oiks  forsook  their  kindred  trees, 
And  pr^ud  <»Vr  ocean,  march'd  before  the  breeze  ; 
For  this  our  seamen  quit  their  native  shore, 
Rode  the  wild  waves,  and  ferried  seas  of  gore  ; 
Fr.r  this  Hold  Eaton,  with  his  patriot  band, 
ScourM  the  lone  deserts  of  a  barb'rous  land  ; 
For  this  our  naval  heroes  fought  and  bled, 
So  brave  when  living,  andsomturti'd  when  dead. 

Our  frigate  shaped  her  course  for  'he  Mediter 
ranean.  \Vp  had  for  the  most  part  of  the  way,  a 
fine  breeze  and  very  pleasant  weather.  We  ar 
rived  at  Gibraltar,  if  I  mistake  not,  the  26th  day 
of  Auiust,  but  saw  the  straits  in  twenty-six  rlnys 
from  the  Capes  of  Delaware.  We  lay  at  the  Rock 
a  few  days,  when  the  frigate  New-York.  Commo 
dore  Morris,  the  Constitution,  Capt.  Preble,  and 


SKETCH  OF  THE 

the  John  Adams,  Capt.  Campbell,  arrived  from, 
ihe  Mediterranean.  The  brig  Vixen,  Lt.  Smithy 
also  arrived  from  Baltimore.  Information  being 
received  that  a  war  vessel  with  Barbary  colors 
was  cruising  oft"  the  Rock,  our  frigate  went  in  pur 
suit  of  her,  and  she  hove  in  sight  about  the  mid 
dle  of  the  afiernoon.  She  ben?  away  with  all  the 
sails  she  could  set,  and  we  gave  chase.  Our  ship 
was  under  British  colors;  but  still  she  refused  to 
come  to  until  we  had  fired  a  number  of  guns.  A- 
bout  sunset,  we  came  within  hailing — she.  was 
asked,  where  are  you  from  ? — "  Morocco/'  Where 
are  you  bound  ?~"  Morocco  " — What  news? — 
"The  Emperor  of  Morocco  has  given  orders  to  cap- 
turf  all  American  shipping." — Have  you  taken  any? 
— "  Yes,  a  brig  from  Boston." — Where  is  she  ? — 
''Ahead."  We  were  along  side  the  ship  with  eve 
ry  thing  prepared  to  give  her  a  full  broadside, 
when — judge  of  the  enemy's  consternation,  orders 
were  given  to  let  fall  the  British  flag  and  hoist  the 

American  colors  followed  by — "  Strike  you  d d 

rascals  or  I'll  blow  you  out  the  water !" — In  an  in 
stant  their  flag  was  down,  and  a  cry  of  ''quarters! 
America!  quarters!"—* She  proved  to  be  the 
Moorish  ship  Mirboha,  of  twenty-two  guns  and 
one  hundred  and  ten  men.  The  prize  in  tow,  we 
no\v  made  for  the  brig,  which  led  us  a  chase  and 
v/as  very  unwilling  to  comp  to  ;  but  when  we 
came  within  hail,  the  affrighted  master  cried  cut, 
"  Morocco ,'  Morocco !  Jl  merica  /"  arid  immed iately 
struck  his  colors.  This  brig  was  the  Celia,  of  Boston, 
with  six  hands  besides  the  Captain  and  mate,  who 
had  been  stripped  of  their  clothing,  robbed  of  their 
chosts  and  cash,  plundered  of  every  thin,  valuable 
in  their  ra>*rro.  ^r><]  confined  below  in  irons.  Vt  c 
took  the  brig  ia  tow,  the  prize  in  company,  and 


ATTilOU'S  LIFE. 

•Steered  Tor  the  Rock.  Knowing;  themselves  to  be 
pirates,  the  Moorish  captives  manifested  great 
concern  for  their  lives,  by  often  putting  their  fin 
gers  across  their  throats  and  asking  us  if  we  did 
not  think  thrv  \\ould  lose  their  heads.  They  were 
rdi  sent  on  !>oard  olour  ship.  Lt  Cox  remained  on 
Hoard  the  Moorish  ship  as  prize  master.  The  prison 
ei's  we  kept  on  b;»ard  the  frigate,  where  they  were 
treated  with  kindness,  for  some  days,  and  then 
sent  to  their  own  ship  again.  To  supply  the  place 
of  Mr.  Cos  as  first  Lieut  of  the  Philadelphia,  Mr. 
Porter  came  on  board,  and  midshipman  Renshaw 
to  fill  (he  place  of  Mr.  M'Donoiijjh  who  rema'ned 
with  Mr.  Cox.  The  Emperor  of  Morocco  disavow 
ed  this  act,  the  ship  was  restored,  and  die  treaty 
of  1786  was  renewed.  A  flairs  being  adjusted 
with  Morocco,  we  sailed  for  Malta  some  time  iu 
October  in  company  with  the  Vixen,  and  arrived 
(here  towards  the  latter  part  of  the  month.  I 
need  not  inform  the  intelligent  reader  that  is  the 
Island  which  in  St.  Paul's  day  was  called  Melita, 
the  {mice  where  he  was  shipwrecked,  and  where: 
the  "barbarous  people  showed  no  little  kindness/' 
'['he  town  of  Malta  is  lar^e  and  populous,  the  har 
bor  is  spacious  and  commodious,  and  be  ins  nearly 
enclosed  by  th«  town,  it  is  a  very  safe  one  for  ship 
ping.  The  houses  are  be i it  of  a  creran  colored 
stone,  a  IK!  are  durable  and  handsome.  The  nu 
merous  churches,  priests,  monks,  and  friars  — the 
almost  incessant  ringing;  of  bells  in  every  part  of 
the  town,  as  signals  for  prayers,  would  lead  any 
one  to  imagine  that  Iie»e  was  the  residence  of  holy 
Christian*  ;  but  you  irwsftuke  very  good  care  when 
amo  !_  t1  ese  pious  Christians,  that  you  do  not  have 
yuur  pockets  picked,  with  all  their  zeal  and  piety. 
U 


226  SKETCH  OF  THE 

After  a  short  stay  here,  we  sailed  for  Tripoli,  and 
for  what  reason  I  know  not,  left  the  brig. 

On  the  31st  day  of  October,  early  in  the  morn 
ing,  a  sail  was  discovered  on  our  larboard  bow, 
and  orders  were  immediately  given  for  chase. — 
She  hoisted  Tripolitan  colors  and  bore  away,  ma 
king  inshore  towards  Tripoli.  The  white  walls 
of  our  destined  place  of  confinement  soon  hove  in 
sight.  Every  sail  was  set,  and  every  effort  made 
to  overhaul  the  ship,  and  cut  her  off  from  the  town. 
The  wind  was  not  very  favorable  to  our  purpose, 
and  we  frequently  had  to  wear  ship.  A  constant  fire 
was  kept  up  from  the  Philadelphia,  but  to  no  pur 
pose.  We  were  now  within  about  four  and  a  half 
miles  from  the  town,  and  Captain  Bainbridge,  not 
bfcin£  acquainted  with  the  harbor,  having  no  pilot 
nor  correct  chart,  trusted  inplicitly  to  Lt.  Porter, 
who  had  been  here  before,  and  who  professed  to  be 
well  acquainted  with  the  situation  of  the  harbor.  We 
however  went  so  close  in  that  the  Captain  began 
to  be  fearful  of  venturing  any  further,  and  was 
heard  to  express  his  apprehensions  to  Lt.  P.  who 
made  answer  that  there  was  no  danger  yet,  and  that 
he  would  give  them  a  few  shots  more.  A  few  mo 
ments  afterwards,  and  just  as  our  ship  was  pre 
paring  to  wear  away,  she  struck  upon  the  shoals 
and  remained  fast!  I  was  writing  in  the  ward 
room  at  the  time,  and  hearing  a  tremendous 
bustle  on  deck,  ran  up  the  hatchway  to  see 
what  was  the  matter.  I  saw  at  once  that  the 
ship's  bow  lay  up  partly  careened,  and  that  she 
was  aground.  She  lay  in  a  posture  exactly  as  I 
had  dreamed  of  seeing  her  a  few  nights  before,  and 
the  moment  [saw  her,  the  dream  recurred  to  me  in 
avery  striking  manner.  Dismay  was  visible  in 
every  countenance.  The  sails  were  put  aback; 


AUTHOR'S  LIFE.  2*7 

the  topgallant  sails  loosened,  three  anchors  thrown 
away  from  the  bows  ;  the  water  in  the  hold  start 
ed  ;  and  the  guns  thrown  overboard,  excepting  a 
few  abaft  to  defend  the  ship  against  the  attacks  of 
the  gunboats,  three  of  which  were  now  under 
way  from  the  wharves.  Her  foremast  was  also 
cut  away  ;  but  ail  to  no  eftect.  One  gunboat  only 
was  able  to  gain  a  position  where  she  could  reach 
us  and  this  began  and  continued  to  spit  her  fiery 
vengeance  ;  but  they  fired  too  high,  and  hit  nothing 
but  the  rigging.  The  stern  ci  our  frigate  was 
partly  demolished  to  make  way  fur  our  guns  to 
bear  upon  the  enemy  the  better,  but  all  was  una 
vailing.  It  was  about  twelve  o'clock  when  the 
frigate  struck  the  shoals.  We  continued  firing 
at  the  gunboats  and  using  every  means  in  our  pow 
er  to  get  the  ship  afloat  and  annoy  the  enemy, 
when,  a  little  before  sunset,  the  Eagle  of  Ameri 
ca  tell  a  prey  to  the  vultures  of  Barbary the 

fla,>  was  struck! — and  what  is  worse,  struck  to 
ONE  Tiipolitan  gunboat!!! — -Ve  had  boarding 
pikes,  battle  axes,  muskets  and  bayonets,  cutlasses 
and  pistols,dirks  and  tomahawks,  boarding  nettings, 
and  every  thing  else  to  defend  ourselves  with  ; 
there  were  more  than  three  hundred  of  us  on  board 
— we  might,  1  humbly  beg  leave  to  think,  have 
kept  olf  the  enemy  for  that  night,  and  behold  the 
next  morning,  as  I  have  always  been  told  by  the 
Tripoli  tans,  the  ship  was  afloat ! ! !  How  this  act 
was  justified  by  the  court  martial  that  afterwards 
investigated  the  subject,  is  not  for  me  to  say.  I 
know,  however,  hat  il  was  thought  by  many  of 
the  warrant  and  il  the  petty  officers,  as  well  as 
by  the  whole  crew,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  an  un 
necessary  and  premature  surrender.  The  fact 
Tvas,  the  enemy  were  so  dastardly  that  after  ihe 


228  SKETCH' OF  THE 

flag  was  struck  they  dare  not,  for  they  did  n./f 
come  to  take  possession  of  their  prize,  until  our 
boat  was  sent  and  convinced  them  that  it  was  no 
furce,  no  trick,  and  that  the  U.  S.  frigate  Phila 
delphia  of  forty-four  guns  had  actually  struck  her 
colors  to  one  Tripolitan  <?;i*nboat !!! — And  vet  we 
juust  not  indulge  the  idea  that  Capt.  Bainbridge 
\vas  a  coward,  bv  any  means.  I  suppose  it  was 
feared  that  when  night  came  on,  the  enemy  would 
venture  out  in  full  force,  and  probably  overpower 
us,  e"mng  no  quarters. 

While  the  boat  was  gone,  the  ship  was  scuttled, 
and  every  thing  destroyed  or  thrown  overboard, 
that  could  be  of  any  use  to  the  enemy: — all  hands 
were  called  to  muster  on  (he  quarter  deck — Capt. 
Bainbridge  read  a  clause  in  the  articles  of  war.— - 
stating  that  our  wages  would  be  continued  while 
prisoners  of  war — encouraged  us  to  hope  fora  ran 
som,  and  advised  us  to  behave  with  fortitude  and 
circumspection,  while  amongst  our  barbarous  cap 
tors.  About  sundown,  the  boats  of  the  enemy  came 
along-side,  boarded  us,  hurried  us  into  their  boat*, 
and  commenced  their  plunder — stripping  us  of  ail 
our  clothing,  except  shirts^trowsers  and  hats.  1  had 
some  pieces  of  gold  which  an  officer  had  given  me 
in  my  vest  pocket;  which  I  at  first  refused  to  give 
up,  but  one  of  the  pirates  pushing  the  muzzle  of  a 
cocked  pistol  hard  against  my  breast,  soon  brought 
me  to  terms.  When  \\eapproached  the.  shore, 
we  were  thrown  headlong  into  the  waves,  foam 
ing  from  a  high  .breeze,  when  the  water  was  up 
to  our  armpits,  and  left  to  strangle,  or  get  ashore 
as  we  could.  At  the  beach  stood  a  row  of  armed 
Janizaries,  through  which  we  passed,  amidst 
cursings  and  spittings,  to  the  Castle  £ate.  It 
,  and  we  ascended  a  nancw  ;vii;dii$g  dicr- 


AUTHOR'S  LIFE.  £23 

Uial  passage,  which  led  into  a  paved  avenue  lined 
with  grisly  guards,  armed  with  sabres,  muskets, 
pistols,  and  hatchets  Here  we  halted  a^aiti  a  few 
moments;  and  were  again  hurried  on  through  va 
rious  turnings  and  flights  of  stair*,  until  we  found 
ourselves  in  the  presence  of  his  majesty,  the  puissant 
Bashaw  of  Tripoli.  The  throne  on  which  he  was 
seated  was  raised  about  four  feet  from  the  surface, 
inlaid  with  Mosaic,  covered  with  a  cushion  of  the 
richest  velvet,  fringed  with  gold,  bespangled  with 
brilliants,  The  floor  of  the  hall  was  of  variegated 
marble,  spread  with  carpets  of  the  most  beautiful 
kind.  The  person  of  the  Grand  Bashaw  made  a 
very  tawdry  appearance.  His  clothing  was  a  long 
robe  of  blue  silk  embroidered  with  gold.  His 
broad  belt,  ornamented  with  diamonds,  held  two 
gold  mounted  pistols  and  a  sabre  with  a  golden 
scabbard,  hilt,  and  chain?.  On  his  head  he  wore  a 
large  white  turban,  decorated  in  the  richest  mariner. 
His  whole  vestments  were  supeib  in  the  extreme: 
His  dark  beard  swept  his  breast.  I  should  suppose 
him  to  be  about  forty,  is  rather  corpulent,  five 
feet  tea  inches  in  height,  and  of  a  manly  majestic 
deportment.  When  !te  had  satiated  his  pride  and 
curiosity,  the  guard  conducted  us  into  a  dreary 
and  filthy  apartment  of  the  castle,  where  there 
vvas  scarcely  room  for  us  to  turn  round,  and  where 
v.'e  were  kept  for  nearly  two  hours,  shivering  in 
our  wet  clothes,  and  with  the  chills  of  a  very  damp 
night.  The  Neapolitan  slaves,  of  whom  the  Ba 
shaw  had  m;»re  than  one  hundred  and  fifty,  brought 
us  dry  clothing  to  exchange  for  our  wet,  and  we 
sincerely  thanked  them  for  their  apparent  kind 
ness,  expecting  to  receive  ours  again  when  dry  ; 
but  the  trickish  scoundrels  never  returned  our 
clothes  no**  made  us  aav  restitution.  Our  elotlilnr 
U  2 


safe  SKETCH  o?  THE 

was  new,  and  what  they  brought  us  in  exchange 
was  old  and  ragged.  We  were  next  taken  to  a 
piazza  nearl}T  in  front  of  the  Banhaw's  audience 
hall,  where  we  lodged  for  the  night.  It  was  open 
on  one  side  to  the  cold  winds  oi  the  night,  and  as 
many  of  us  had  wet  clothes  on,  not  having  exr 
changed  them, — add  to  this  the  gloomy  prospects- 
hefore  us,  and  it  will  not  be  imagined  that  we  en>- 
joved  rery  comfortable  repose. 

in  the  morning  about  eight  o'clock,  an  old  sor 
ceress  came  to  see  us.  She  had  the  complexion  of 
a  squaw,  was  bent  by  age,  ugly  by  nature  and  ren 
dered  frightful  by  art.  Looking  round  upon  us, 
she  raised  a  shrill  cry  of  luy  lu,  lu,  lu  ! — struck  her 
wand  three  times  upon  the  pavement;  and  then 
went  through  the  ranks  and  inspected  us.  This 
frightful  hag  is  held  by  the  Bashaw,  and  all  the 
Tripolitans,  in  the  highest  veneration,  m-t  only 
as  an  enchantress,  but  as  a  prophetess  also.  Jt  is 
said  by  them,  that  she  predicted  the  capture 
of  the  Philadelphia,  and  believed  by  them,  that 
the  frigate  struck  the  shoals  in  consequence  of  her 
incantations. 

We  were  soon  collected  together  in  front  of  a 
large  window  toward  the  yard,  where  the  Bashaw, 
the  renegade  Scotchman,  Com.  Lisle,  and  several 
of  the  Bashaw's  officers  began  to  interrogate  us, 
respecting  our  Captain?s  giving  up  the  ship  to  one 
"unboat.  We  told  him  our  Captain  was  a  brave 
man,  and  had  done  wisely.  The  Bashaw  said  he 
was  "good  for  the  Turk,  but  no  good  for  Ameri 
cans^'  He  was  very  inquisitive  to  know  the  num 
ber  of  shipping  and  military  strength  of  America. 
^Ve  gave  him  exaggerated  accounts  of  both. — 
The  carpenters,  blacksmiths,  and  other  mechanics 
were  selected  from  the  crew,  and  when  counted, 


AtmiOU'S  LIFE.  231 

mingled  with  us  again.  We  were  then  marched 
to  an  old  :>iagazine,  which  had  once  been  occupi 
ed  as  a  prison  tor  the  Swedish  captives,  who  had 
been  taken  like  us,  but  were  discharged.  This 
place  had  a  most  dismal  appearance, — was  dark, 
smoky,  and  floorless.  The  most  of  us  had  not 
tasted  a  mouthful  of  food  for  nearly  thirty  hours, 
and  we  began  to  feel  the  "keen  demands  of  appe 
tite."  Towards  evening;,  some  coarse  white  bread 
was  given  us,  one  loaf  a- piece,  weighing  about 
twelve  ounces.  This  was  all  we  had  for  the  day. 
\Vehadnothingtosleep  on  but  an  old  tattered 
sail  ;  the  bottom  of  the  prison  was  full  of  sharp 
pebble*  ;  the  weather  was  about  the  most  chilly  of 
any  in  the  year  ;  we  had,  or  I  had  nothing  but  a 
shirt  and  trowsers ;  the  prison  was  very  much 
crowded,  so  that  we  had  not  room  for  all  to  lie 
down  at  once,  and  you may  well  judg,e  how  much 
we  could  enjoy  the  refreshment  of  sleep  in  such  a 
situation.  For  my  part,  the  effects  of  my  lodging 
on  such  hard  bedding  aie  felt  to  this  day,  and,  pro 
bably,  will  be  felt  with  it  creased  pain,  until  the 
day  of  my  death. — The  commissioned  and  warrant 
officers  fared  much  bttter.  They  were  it  is  true 
kept  in  close  confinement  in  the  American  Con 
sular  House,  while  we  were  allowed  the  liberty  of 
the  town,  when  not  at  labor  ?  but  they  hat!  plenty 
of  good  wholesome  provisions,  and  we  were  fre 
quently  almost  famished  with  hunger  Knowing 
this  to  be  our  situation,  "(Japt.  B.  wrote  to  the 
Secretary  of  the  Navy,  "requesting,"  says  Doct. 
Coudery,  "that  arrangements  mi£.ht  be  made,  to 
meet  the  exigencies  of  liin. self,  the  other  cfficers, 
and  their  servants, — and  adding,  the  remainder  of 
the  crew  would  b»  provided  for  by  the  Regency." 
This  I  have  always  thought  vas  very  wrong;  for 


SKETCH  OP 

the  Capt.  could  not  have  expected  (hat  the  Bashavv 
would  allow  us  any  more  than  he  could  make  us 
earn,  or  treat  us  any  belter  than  his  other  slaves. 
But  I  suppose  our  Captain  was  willing  to  make 
the  best  of  a  bad  bargain,  and  cause  as  little  ex 
pense  to  the  United  {States  as  possible. 

The  second  morning  of  our  captivity,  MC  were 
all  ordered  out  of  the  prison  before  sunrise.  The 
carpenters,  the  blacksmiths,  the  coopers  and  sail- 
maker?,  were  separated  into  different  gangs,  and 
appointed  to  iheir  several  employments,  under 
Turkish  masters.  The  remainder  divided  into 
different  parties — some  sent  into  the  castle  to  car 
ry  stone,  lime  and  mortar,  where  they  were  making 
repairs;  and  others  to  different  kinds  of  labor  as 
they  chanced  to  be  called  (or.  Some  got  intoxica- 
ted"on  a  liquor  called  aquctchnt,  distilled  from  the 
date,  and  sold  by  the  Jews,  for  which  offence  they 
received  a  severe  bastinading.  The  instrument 
with  which  they  inflict  this  torture  is  called  a 
bastone  ;  it  is  generally  a  stick  about  four  feet 
long,  as  thick  as  a  man's  arm,  through  which  two 
holes  are  bored  so  as  to  take  in  a  rope  forming  a 
loop.  Into  this  loop  the  victim's  feet  are  put,  be 
ing  first  thrown  on  the  ground  with  his  back  up 
permost.  A  Turk  then  takes  hold  at  each  end  of 
the  stick,  and  twisting  it  round,  the  feet  are 
brought  in  a  horizontal  position,  screwed  tight  to 
gether,  with  the  soles  fair  for  a  blow.  A  man  sits 
on  his  back,  and  two  more  with  each  a  bamboo,  as 
large  as  a  walking-staff,  and  about  three  feet  long, 
bard  and  heavy,  apply  it  to  the  soles  of  the  feet  with 
ill  their  might  and  vengeance.  In  this  manner, 
they  punished  several  of  our  men  for  various  of 
fences,  and  in  this  manner  they  punish  their  own. 
The  men  thus  flogged  were  put  in  heavy  irons  fer 


At'THOH'S  LIFE.  23i~ 

three  days.  Having  nothing  for  twenty 
four  hours9  allowance  but  two  coarse  black  loaves 
of  sour  barley  bread,  weigh  frig  about  twelve  ounce? 
each,  a  piece,  and  b^ing  kept  hard  at  labor,  our 
men  began  to  complain  much  of  hunger.  Some 
of  them  had  the  good  fortune  to  save  a  little  money, 
and  these  were  permitted  to  «p  to  the  market  to 
purchase  bread  and  vegetables.  A  little  beef  and 
pork  was  brought  from  the  frigate,  and  divided 
amongst  us.  and  though  raw,  devoured  with  greedi 
ness  Their  market  makes  a  wretched  appear 
ance,  consisting  of  a  long  row  of  low  mud-wail 
huts,  at  the  doors  of  which  the  people  sitting  on 
the  ground  retail  pumpkins*  carrot?:,  turnips,  scul 
lions,  oranges,  lenrt;nd,  liaies,  fi^s,  dates,  pomegra 
nates,  bread,  butter,  m:Ik,  oil,  &c.  vVe  were  al 
lowed  about  three  fourths  of  a  gill  of  sweet  oil  per 
day,  to  eat  with  our  bread.  In  this  horrid -dun 
geon,  where  some  of  us  every  night  had  to  set  up 
for  want  of  room  to  lie  down,  we  continued  through 
the  winter,  suffering  intolerably  for  the  want  of 
shot-is  and  clothing,  as  well  as  for  victuals,  with 
out  hearing  the- feast  news  from  our  squadron  until 
February.  Several  of  our  men  became  much  indis 
posed  from  sleeping  on  the  damp  ground,  and  going, 
almost  naked,  and  one  of  them,  Julin  ffiWiflnfdied 
inconsequence;  and  some  others  did  worse  than 
die  by  turning  from-  Christianity  to  Mahoiiietan- 
ism  The  first  one  who  disgraced  our  rl;ig  in  this 
manner,  thank  fortune,  was  not  an  American,  but 
a  German,  who  «jj«>ke  the  Lingua  Franca,  and  had 
been  a  quartermaster  on  board  our  frigate,  by  the 
name  of  John  Wilson,  a  perfidious  wretch,  who 
acted  as  a  spy  upon  us  before  he  assumed  the 
dress  of  a  Turk, and  injured  us  very  much  in  dif 
fer  tit  ways,  by  carrying  stories  to  the  Bashaw,  tend- 


.334  SKETCH  OF  THE 

ing  to  prove  bis  partiality  for  him  in  preference  to 
the  Americans.  The  fellow  told  us  that  the  Ba 
shaw's  orders  were  for  us  to  pull  off  our  hats  and  give 
him  three  huzzas  as  he  passed  through  our  prison 
yard.  The  Bashaw  personally  made  his  appear 
ance,  and  some  of  our  men  were  mean  enough  to 
cheer  the  old  tyrant,  while  others  refused  with  a 
spirit  truly  American.  He  was  dressed  much  the 
same  as  when  we  first  saw  him  in  the  castle,  sur 
rounded  by  slaves  and  Mamelukes,  riding  a 
large  milk-white  mare.  At  his  right  hand  rode  a 
huge  negro,  who  was  admitted  to  this  distinguish 
ed  honor  for  having  assassinated  the  Bashaw's 
brother,  who  was  a  powerful  and  dangerous  rival. 
Four  of  his  younger  children  went  before  him,  on 
mules  led  by  Neapolitan  slaves,  carrying  each 
an  umbrella  over  the  head  of  the  child.  Two 
large  boxes,  containing  the  Bashaw's  best  treas 
ures  were  slung  across  a  mule  led  by  a  trusty 
slave.  The  Tripoli  tans  appearing  to  be  more 
savage  than  common,  we  fount!  that  some  reports 
had  reached  them  of  the  Americans'  treating  their 
prisoners  very  roughly  on  board  the  John  Adams  ; 
and  Wilson  had  also  informed  the  Bashaw  that  se 
veral  boxes  of  dollars  had  been  thrown  overboard 
from  the  Philadelphia.  Both  of  these  stories  were 
false.  The  one  told  by  Wilson,  was  doubtless 
meant  to  ingratiate  himself  with  the  Bashaw,  and 
he  actually  kept  a  number  of  the  Turks  diving 
and  fishing  for  the  money  several  days,  and  until 
the  Turks  themselves  disbelieved  the  story,  i?  be 
ing  contradicted  by  the  whole  crew.  Capt.  B. 
coming  among  us,  accused  Wilson  of  his  base  trea 
chery,  which  he  could  not  deny,  and  told  him  that 
if  ever  <h?v  both  got  back  to  America,  or  got  re 
leased  irorn  captivity,  he  would  have  him  hanged 


AUTHOR'S  LIFE,  235 

for  a  traitor.  This  induced  the  perfidious  wretch 
to  seal  his  infamy  by  embracing  Mahometanism. 
Soon  after  Wilson's  apostacy,  Thomas  Prince,  a 
lad  from  Rhode-Island,  followed  his  example. 

Our  bread  was  very  musty:  Our  situation  be 
came  intolerable,  and  I  suggested  the  idea  of  pre 
senting  a  petition  to  the  Bashaw  for  some  kind  of 
.relief.  Some  objected  to  it  as  being  rather  degra 
ding  to  Americans  to  ask  any  favor  of  a  Turk ; 
but  (  drew  a  petition  and  they  ail  signed  it.  It 
was  in  the  following  words: 

To  his  E.rcelleucy  the  Grand  Bashaw  of  Tripoli. 

The  petition  of  the  American  prisoners,  most 
humbly  sheweth: — That  when  your  petitioners 
were  captured  in  the  United  States  frigate  Phila 
delphia,  they  were  plundered  of  all  their  clothing;, 
and  are  daily  sickening  and  suffering  most  intol 
erably,  from  the  inclemency  of  the  season,  and 
from  not  having  any  thing  to  sleep  on  to  keep 
them  from  the  cold  damp  ground,  but  a  tattered 
sail-cloth:  And  also, that  your  petitioners,  not  re 
ceiving  sufficient  nourishment  to  enable  them  to  en 
dure  the  hardships  and  to  perform  the  grievous  tasks 
assigned  them,  are  frequently  most  inhumanly 
beaten  for  the  lack  of  that  strength,  wbich  proper 
food  would  restore  and  supply— Your  petitioners 
therefore  pray,— that  his  Excellency,  consulting 
his  interest  as  well  as  his  honor  and  humamty,would 
graciously  be  pleased  to  grant  us  more  comforta 
ble  clothing  and  more  nourishing  food  ;  and  your 
petitioners,  while  they  continue  your  prisoners, 
will  remain  your  most  faithful,  industrious,  and 
obedients. 

The  next  day  the  Bashaw  in  consequence  of 
the  petition,  ordered  us  two  barrels  of  pork  from 


£56  SKETCH   OF  THE 

Hie  frig-ate.  This  however  vas  but.  a  drop  in  i 
bucket,  and  was  devoured  with  instantaneous 
greediness. 

On  the  £Sncl  of  Dec.  ona  hundred  and -fifty  of  our 
men,  myself  among  the  rest,  were  sent  to  raise  an  old 
wreck  of,a  vessel  deeply  barred,  in  the  sand  under 
water,  eastward  from  the  town.  It  was  now  the 
coldest  reason  of  the  year— we.  were  almost  naked, 
;»nd  were  driven  into  the  water  up  to  our  armpits. 
\Ve  had  to  shovel  the  sand  from  the  bottom  and 
carry  it  in  baskets  to  the  banks.  ;The  chilling 
waves  almost  arrested  the  flow  of  life  forever,  and 
ihe  Turks  •  seemed  more  barbarous  than  usual, 
beating  us  with  their  bamboos  and  exulting  in  our 
sufferings.  They  kept  us  in  (he  water  from  about 
«,uurise  until  two  o'clock  P.  M.  before  we  were 
permitted  to  come  out.  or  to  taste  a  mouthful  of 
food  for  that  day.  They  then  broug'tt  us  some 
bread  ,ond  a  J.UK  of  aquadent.  When  we  had 
"snatch'd  a  short  repast,"  we  were  driven  a^ain 
into  the  water  and  kept  there  until  s.unset.  We 
had  no  clothes  to  change,  but  were  -obliged  to 
sleep  in  our  wet  ones  on  the  damp  earth  the  follow 
ing  ni«ht.  \\ifh  such  usage  life  became  almost 
insupportable,  and  every  night  when. I  laid  my 
head  upon  the  (:iap  of  earth, '?  I  most  sincerely 
prayed  that  I  mij>ht  never  experience  the  horrors 
of  .another  morning.  Our  suffer  inffs  continued 
much. the  same  UP. til  about  the  middle  of  February. 

On  the  )Gth  of  that  month,  towards  evening,  two 
vessels  bearing  American  colors',  were  seen  standing 
in  fur  the  harbor.  Our  men  were  wuJi  rejoiced  at  the 
sij^ht ;  for  as  the  season  of  the  tear  was  not  favorable 
*or  ariatiack,  they  flattered  •  iv »»•*<•  !<.e»  that  they  had 
cop.ie  either  to  rin^-'n  tis  on  KVK?  already  agreed 
to,  or  with  proposals  v/h'uh  wi-  Jiopod  would  be 


AUTHOR'S  LIFE.  237 

accepted.  Tho  Bashaw  had  ordered  us  a  barrel 
of  park,  another  of  beef,  and  all  our  men  appeared 
more  than  ordinarily  cheerful.  About  1 1  o'clock 
at  night,  we  were  roused  by  the  screeches  of  wo 
men,  the  clattering;  of  footsteps  through  the  prison 
yard,  the  harsh  loud  voices  of  men,  mingled  with 
a  thundering  of  cannon  from  the  castle,  which 
made  our  prison  tremble  to  its  ha  so.  Tumult, 
consternation  and  dismay  reigned  in  every  sec 
tion  of  the  town  and  castle;  and  it  was  verily 
believed  that  if  we  had  been  at  liberty  and  fur 
nished  with  arms,  we  might  with  ease  have  taken 
the  castle  with  every  other  fort  in  town  ;  for  the 
most  of  the  people  in  town  supposed  we  had  al 
ready  risen  anil  taken  the  castle,  ami  were  a- 
fraid  to  come  nigh  it.  In  the  confusion  of  voices 
we  could  often  hear  the  word  American? — and 
we  therefore  hoped  that  some  of  our  countrymen 
were  landing  to  liberate  us;  but  tire  true  cause  of 
so  much  clamor  we  did  not  'learn  until  morning. 
Feb.  irth,  early  in  the  morning,  and  much  ear 
lier  than  usual,  our  prison  doors  wera  unbolted, 
which  had  been  doubly  guarded  the  night  before, 
and  the  keepers  rushed  in  amongst  us  like  so  many 
fiends,  and  fell  to  beating  and  cursing  every  one 
they  could  see,  spitting  in  our  faces,  gnashing  their 
teeth,  and  hissing  like  dragons.  Word  was  soon 
brought  that  the  wreck  of  the  frigate  Philadelphia 
lay  smoking  in  the  rocks  at  a  point  where  she 
had  drifted,  burned  down  to  the  water.  We  could 
not  disguise  our  joy  at  the  event,  which  increased 
tbe  exasperated  Turks  still  the  more,  so  that  every 
boy  we  met  in  the  streets  took  the  liberty  to  spft 
on  us  as  \va  passed,  not  forgetting  to  pelt  us  se 
verely  with  stones.  Our  tasks  were  also  redou 
bled,  our  bread  v\ithheld  for  three  days,  and  every 
V 


*:33  SKETCH  OF  THE 

driver  exercised  cruelties  over  us  tenfold  ro.rrf, 
rigid  than  before.  We  were  so  hungry  thai  fm 
my  part  I  was  glad  to  pick  up  the  peals  of  oranges 
in  the  dirty  streets,  and  eat  them  filth  and  all. — 
Hew  and  by  whom  this  heroic  achievement  was  per 
formed  I  never  knew  for  a  certainty  un  il  I  saw  the 
oflicial  report  afterwards.  "  The  Philadelphia  lay 
within  halfgun  shot  of  the  Bashaw's  castle  ami  prin 
cipal  battery.  On  her  starboard  quarter  lay  ten  Tri- 
politan  cruisers  within  two  cables'  length  ;  and  on 
her  starboard  bow  a  number  of  gunboats  within 
half  gun  shot.  All  her  guns  were  mounted  and 
loaded.  Lieut.  Stephen  Decatur  had  arrived 
from  Syracuse  in  the  Ketch  Intrepid,  which  he 
had  lately  taken  from  the  Tripolitans,  manned 
with  seventy  volunteers  for  this  hazardous  enter- 
prize,  lie  had  parted  with  the  Syren,  Lieut. 
Steward  in  a  gale,  but  still  was  resolved  to  risk 
the  event  alone.  When  within  about  two  hun 
dred  yards  of  the  Philadelphia,  they  were  hailed 
from  her,  and  ordered  to  anchor  in  peril  of  a  broad 
side.  The  pilot  on  board  the  Intrepid  was  ordered 
to  answer  that  all  their  anchors  were  lost.  The 
Intrepid  was  warped  along  side  the  Philadelphia, 
It  was  not  until  then  the  Tripolitans  suspected 
them  to  be  an  enemy;  and  the  coi, fusion  in  con 
sequence  was  great  As  soon  as  the  vessels  were. 
sufficiently  near,  Lieut.  Decatur  sprung  on  board 
the  frigate,  and  was  followed  by  midshipman  Mor 
ris.  It  was  a  minute  before  the  remainder  of  the  crew 
succeeded  in  mounting  after  them  :  but  the  Turks 
crowded  together  on  the  quarter  deck  were  in  too 
«reat  consternation  to  take  advantage  of  this  delay. 
As  soon  as  a  sufficient  number  of  Americans  gain 
ed  the  deck,  they  rushed  upon  the  Tripoli 'ans,  who 
wore  soon  overpowered,  and  twenty  of  them  were 


AUTHOR'S  LIFE. 

killed.'*  Thus  says  the  official  report ;  but  (lit: 
Tripolitans  and  Neapolitan  slaves  told  us  a  dilVer- 
ent  story.  They  said  there  were  only  eight  men 
on  board  the  frigate  ;  that  two  of  them  escaped  and 
six  were  made  prisoners;  but  not  a  single  person 
killed.  The  reader  may  make  his  own  comments. 

After  this  a  tent  was  pitched  in  front  of  our  pri 
son,  and  a  strong  guard  kept  over  us  at  night. — 
We  received  no  wore  beef  nor  pork  from  the  Ba 
shaw's  stores.  M  arch  1  —  1 804 — Our  officers  pass 
cd  through  our  prison  yard  for  tho  castle,  v. here' 
they  were  con  lined  in  future,  having  before  been' 
kept  in  the  American  consul  house.  We  were  not 
permitted  to  speak  to  them :  Capt.  13.,  however,' 
bid  us  be  of  good  heart,,  although  he  looked  very 
much  dejected  himself. 

March  26. — Early  in  the  morning,  some  of  our 
men  returning;  from  the  beach  with  joy  sparkling  in 
their  eyes,  informed  us  that  a  frigate  with  American 
colors  was  standing  in  for  the  harbor.  About  8 
o'clock  our  joy  was  increased  at  observing  that  she 
carried  a  white  ilag  at  the  main.  The  Bashaw  soon 
responded  to  the  signal,  by  hoisting  a  white  flagon 
the-  tower  of  the  castle.  As  we  walked  the  streets, 
the  Turks  who  but  the  day  before  had  stoned  us, 
now  patted  us  on  the  shoulder,  saying"  bono  (goodj 
American."  About 9  o'clock  Consul  O'Biian  lan 
ded  on  the  beach,  and  went  up  i:ito  the  castle, — 
In  about  half  an  hour  he  returned  a.id  went  oa 
board  the  frigate  again.  We  could  not  learn  eith 
er  fie  object  or  result  of  this  short  interview. — 
The  frigate  soon  bore  away  and  left  us  again  hope 
less  Our  allowance  and  treatment  continued  a- 
boui  the  same.  The  men,  many  of  them,  began  to 
be  as  iiaked  as  the  natives  of  Pel  lew.  Some  cloth 
ing  lud  been  issued  to  us  by  Capt.  E.  but  not  s-jfti- 


xi40  SKETCH  OF  THE 

cient  for  all,  and  thoie  \vlio  had  clothes  sold 
to  buy  provisions.  Many  of  us  had  to  dra.u  a  hea 
vy  waggon  (left  by  Bonaparte  in  his  expedition  to 
Kg\  pt)  five  or  six  miles  into  ihe  country  over  the 
burning  sands,  barefoot  and  shirtless,  and  back  a- 
j;a5n  loaded  with  timber,  before  they  had  any  tiling 
to  eat,  except  perhaps  a  few  raw  carrots.  We  were 
much  afflicted  with  vermin  ;  and  having  no  change 
of  clothes,  the  only  way  we  had  to  keep  ourselves 
from  them  was  to  go  on  the  beach  and  strip  oil* our 
shirts,  going  Baked  until  we  washed  them,  and  then 
our  trowsers  in  the  same  way. 

April  15 — We  felt  the  S>roc  winds;  they  are 
very  sultry  and  suffocating.  The  Turks  do  not 
walk  the  streets  during  the  prevalence  of  these 
morbid  gales.  They  told  us  that  if  these  winds 
continued  "  tri  juurna,  tota  inwto" — three  days 
we  should  all  die.  A  fresh  breeze  from  the  ocean* 
however,  about  two  o'clock,  banished  all  apprehen 
sions  of  nioi  tality  from  that  quarter.  About  this  time 
two  of  our  men  caught  a  beautiful  bird,  and  brought 
it  to  the  prison.  It  was  said  to  be  a  sweet  songster. 
The  Danish  Consul,  Mr.  NISSKN,  had  showed  us 
the  utmost  kindness,  and  I  suggested  to  the  men  to 
make  a  handsome  cage  for  the  bird  and  present  it 
to  that  gentleman,  as  a  mark  of  respect.  While 
they  were  making  the  cage,  I  wrote  a  few  verses  to 
accompany  the  present,  as  follow  : 
iAnes  addressed  to  the  honorable  Mr.  J\"issen,  Dan 
ish  Consul,  on  presenting  him  a  bird  in  a  cag?.* 

To  thee,  the  prisoners'  warmest  fricnc!, 

This  little  warbling  one  I  send, 
Committed  to  thy  care: 

JTis  a  Tripolitan,  my  foe, 

Rut  thou  canst  let  the  captive,  go, 
And  cleave  its  native  air. 


AUTHOR'S  LIFE.  241 

Between  belligerents  not  free, 
Between  two  slaves — the  bird  and  me, 

Both  panting  for  release, 
A  mediator  who  shall  stand — 
Piedg'd  for  the  ransom  all  demand 

Or  com  promise  a  peace. 

I  know  'twould  glad  thy  noble  heart 

To  see  me  from  my  cage  depart— 
The  warbler  too  from  his ; 

But  since  thy  sympathy,  though  large, 

Can  only  one  or  us  discharge, 
Til  tell  thee  what  it  is  : — 

Take  both  beneath  thy  friendly  wing, 
And  he  who  shall  the  sweetest  sing, 

With  ihee  shall  fare  the  best, 
Until  my  jubilee  shall  come, 
Then  let  me  seek  my  longing  home, 
•  The  bird  h&  welcome  ne&t 

On  receiving  the  bird  and  verses,  he  gave  tho  men 
\vho  brought  them  a  very  handsome  present,  and 
sent  for  iue  to  come  and  see  him.  I  went,  and  he 
treated  me  in  a  very  polite  and  friendly  manner, 
jgave  me  a  handful  of  n.oiiey,  and  told  me  he  would 
try  and  do  something  to  mitigate  my  sufferings.-— 
lie  invited  me  to  call  on  him  as  often  as  I  chose, 
and  he  would  always  give  me  something  to  eat  and 
drink,  for  he  thought  I  couid  sing  full  as  well  as 
the  bird.  This  gentleman,  though  a  Dane,  had 
been  educated  in  England,  and  was  in  my  opinion 
as  humane  and  accomplished  a  gentleman  as  1  ev 
er  knew.  It  will  be  recollected  that  Congress  vo 
ted  hh*.i  a  golden  urn  as  a  tumpliniciit  for  Rift  gem* 
ess  and  kinilaem  ia  ths  Aiiierican  priioacrs  while 
V  2 


342  SKETCH  OF  THE 

in  Tripoli.  I  called  on  him  as  often  as  a  proper 
delicacy  would  justify,  assisted  him  occasionally 
in  copying  his  papers,  and  always  found  him  the 
same  benevolent  gentleman.  Through  his  influ 
ence,  seconded  by  Capt  Bainbridge,  I  obtained  ex 
emption  from  labor,  which  pleasing  intelligence 
was  announced  to  me  on  the  27th  May,  by  Doc 
tor  Uklgley,  who  was  permitted  to  visit  our  sick. 
He  called  the  keepers  and  told  them  in  the  pres 
ence  of  some  of  the  high  officers  of  state  who  con 
firmed  what  he  said,  that  it  was  the  Bashaw's  or 
ders  not  to  send  me  to  work  any  more  while  a  pri 
soner  in  that  place.  These  were  glad  tidings  of 
great  joy. 

June  10— We  were  ordered  to  remove  to  our 
newly  prepared  prison.  It  was  much  more  coni- 
iortable  than  the  other  and  considerably  larger. — 
About  100  Neapolitans  (subjects  of  the  Kii  g  of 
Naples)  were  confined  with  us,  making  in  the 
whole  upwards  of  350  of  us  in  one  apartment 
every  night. 

July  4 — The  benevolent  Danish  Consul  sent  for 
me  and  made  me  a  present  of  money  to  enable  me 
to  celebrate  the  day.  I  selected  some  of  the  most 
decent  men,  and  we  went  by  piocession  out  on 
the  sands  of  the  beach,  where  we  seated  ourselves 
on  a  stone  platform,  the  remains  of  an  aiu  ient 
reservoir,  under  the  cooling  shade  of  an  orange 
tree,  open  to  refreshing  breezes  from  the  sea.— 
Here  we  sat  and  regaled  ourselves  with  the  juice 
of  tbe  date  tree,  which  the  inhabitants  call  logby, 
until  we  almost  forgot  that  while  oftVring  a  libation 
to  liberty,  we  ourselves  were  wretched  slaves. — 
This  i.cjiH  r,  which  is  the  san-e  as  palm  wine,  runs 
from  the  date  or  palm  tree  like  our  uviple  sap, 
thouh  from  th*J  limbs  insteaU  of  tlie  body,  and  is 


AUTHOR'S  LIFE.  243 

as  strong;  as  Teneriffe,  right  from  the  tree,  but 
soon  loses  its  spirit.  Towards  evening  we  re 
turned  to  our  gloomy  prison  with  several  jugs  of 
the  wholesome  and  cheering  beverage. 

Three  or  four  of  our  shipping  hove  in  sight  a 
little  before  sunset,  and  they  continued  to  show 
themselves  occasionally  off*  the  harbor  until  the 
third  day  of  August,  when  our  men  in  the  forenoon 
returning  from  the  beach,  told  us  that  the.  whole 
coast  was  lined  with  American  shipping,  standing 
in  for  the  harbor.  The  Turks  were  in  great  trepi 
dation — nothing  but  beating  and  stoning  and  Dri 
ving  us  with  horrid  imprecations.  At  three  quar 
ters  past  two,  our  squadron  commenced  the  action 
by  throwing  shells  into  the  town.  In  an  instant 
the  enemy's  shipping  and  batteries  opened  a  tre 
mendous  fire,  which  vas  pn  n  ptly  re-tun  re!  I  \  •  ur 
whole  squadron  within  grape  shot  distance.  \Ve 
were  all  locked  in  the  prison,  and  a  strong  guard 
set  over  us.  The  shells  which  tl  ey  sent  passed  di 
rectly  over  our  prison,  with  a  whizzing  sound,  and 
fell  harmless  in  the  sards  withort  the  walls  of  the 
town.  This  action  continued  till  nearly  sun  c'o\\  n, 
with  some  intermissions,  during  wl  ich  (in  men  in 
quads  were  taken  from  the  prison  to  cany  ke^s  of 
powder  from  the  magazine  in  the  castie  to  d  ft',  rent 
forts,  and  were  beaten  at  every  stop,  with  a  heavy 
burthen  on  their  shoulders  One  ot  our  tars  being 
drafted  for  this  purpose,  when  he  came  to  tl.e  maga 
zine,  and  saw  one  of  his  shipmate-  just  entering  into 
the  vault  where  the  powder  was  kept,  put  hisnii^er 
on  his  nose  which  happened  to  be  of  a  fury  color, 
and  cried  out  "wardu!  nu;ch  de /iUgel91  (t^ke 
care,  much  fire  !) — which  so  pkastd  sune  of  the 
Turks  who  stood  round,  that  the  fdii,w  uho^ave 
the  caution  was  ordered  to  return  to  the  prison 


244  SKETCH  OF  THIS 

nnd  rest,  without  carrying  the  powder,  amidst  the 
bursts  of  laughter  which  his  wit  had  excited.  But 
the  man  with  the  red  nose  never  forgave  him  lor 
so  pointed  an  insult  in  making  him  the  butt  of  his 
ridicule  at  such  a  fearful  time. — The  result  of  this 
action  is  well  known;  it  terminated  gloriously, 
but  did  not  effect  the  object  of  releasing  the  pri 
soners.  Among  the  Americans  there  was  only 
one  killed  (Lieui.  James  Ihcatuv)  and  thirteen 
wounded.  The  number  of  killed  and  wounded 
among  the  enemy  cannot  be  ascertained,  but  it  was 
considerable. 

On  the  7th  of  August,  there  was  another  attack 
made  by  Com.  Preblc.  Their  seven-gun  battery 
was  silenced  in  less  than  two  hours,  except  one 
gun.  The  walls  of  the  other  forts  were  greatly 
injured.  One  of  our  gunboats  was  blown  up,  by 
a  shot  from  the  enemy  which  passed  through  her 
magazine.  She  had  on  board  twenty-eight  offi 
cers,  seamen  and  marines,  ten  of  whom  were  kill 
ed  and  six  wounded.  Aug.  17 — Fifteen  dead 
Americans  were  found  on  the  beach,  drifted 
ashore.  The  Bashaw  gave  permission  and  we 
buried  them  as  decently  as  we  could.  On  the  27tl; 
of  Aug.  Coin.  Preble  again  attac  ked  the  place. — 
At  one  A.  M.  ihe  gunbcats  in  two  divisions,  led 
bv  Captains  Decatur  and  Somers,  were  ordered  to 
advance  and  take  their  stations  close  to  the  rocks 
at  the  entrance  of  the  harbor,  within  grapeshot 
distance  from  the  Bashaw's  castle.  The  Syren, 
Argus,  Vixen,  Nautilus,  Enterprize,  and  boats  of 
ihe  squadron  accompanied  them. 

A  wi?rm  engagement  ensued,  which  my  limits 
in  this  publication  will  not  permit  me  to  detail. — 
Com.  Preble  in  the  Constitution  performed  the 
most  cliirit'";  acts.  lie  run  close  in  under  the 


AUTHORS  LIFE.  245 

butteries,  and  continued  in  that  perilous  position 
until  tie  had  thrown  300  round  shot,  besides  grape 
and  canister,  into  the  tiabbau's  castle  and  batter 
ies.  Great  slaughter  was  made  among  the  enemy's 
gunboats.  Our  vessels  \vereconsiderablyinjured 
iii  their  sails  and  rigging.  The  Constitution  was 
considerably  injured  above  her  hull  ;  one  of  her 
anchor  stocks  and  larboard  cable  was  shot  away, 
and  a  uuruber  of  grape  shots  was  striking  in  dif 
ferent  part*  of  her  hull,  but  not  a  man  lurt! ! ! — 
The  gunboats  fired  upwards  of  400  round  shot, 
besides  grape  and  canister.  Ail  our  officers  and 
seamen  behaved  vith  the  utmost  intrepidity.  A 
boat  belonging  to  the  John  Adams  was  sunk  bv 
a  double  headed  shot  from  the  batteries,  which 
killed  three  men  and  badly  wounded  o  ,e. 

The  Tripolitans  began  to  be  frightened)  and 
some  of  their  principal  officers  treated  u?  with 
more  respect  than  before  the  attack?,  but  the  low 
wretches  continued  to  abuse  and  insult  us,  and 
some  of  the  keepers  who  had  lost  friends  in  the 
engage  in  tints,  were  more  savage  than  ever.  The 
management  cf  the  prisoners  was  in  a  great  meas 
ure  confided  to  these  inhuman  villains,  and  they 
almost  starved  us  to  death.  We  wrote  to  Capt. 
liiiUibridge,  or  I  wrote  in  the  name  of  the  prison 
ers,  that  it  was  impossible  tor  us  to  exist  under 
such  sufferings  as  we  now  experienced,  and  the 
Capt.  engaged  the  Danish  Consul  to  furnish  us 
•vvitn  oae  pound  of  betf  per  man,  \\ith  vegetables 
for  soup,  and  one  loaf  of  white  bread  in  addition  to 
tiie  Biuhaw's  allowance.  The  meat  and  vegeta 
bles  we  were  to  receive  twice  a  week,  and  the 
bread  once  a  day.  As  I  was  exempt  from  laboi\ 
the  task  of  superintending  the  drawing  and  divi 
ding  the  provisions,  devolved  oa  me,  It  \"is  a 


246  SKETCH  OF  TDK 

difficult  and  thankless  office,  like  many  others ; 
but  I  adopted  a  plan  which  silenced  all  mui  mur 
ing  at  once.  1  divided  the  men  into  messes  of 
eight,  as  on  Aboard  of  the  ship,  making  them  choose 
their  own  messmates — numbering  each  mess. — 
The  meat  was  then  cut  up  by  two  of  the  petty 
officers  chosen  by  the  men,  and  divided  into  a» 
many  heaps  or  parcels  as  thero  were  messes,  taking' 
particular  care  that  each  dividend  should  be  dike 
in  quality.  Each  lot  was  then  v,  eighed  and  made 
exactly  equivalent.  The  vegetables  were  as  tare- 
fully  parcelled  out  as  the  meat, :i:;d  laid  along  side. 
As  many  numbers  as  there  were  messes  were  then 
cut  of  paper  and  stuck  on  the  meat.  Another  set 
of  numbers  was  thrown  into  a  hat  and  shaken  to 
gether.  The  number  of  the  messes  being  called 
one  by  one,  \vhate\cr  ticket  each  one  drew  enti 
tled  him  to  a  corresponding  number,  of  meat  and 
vegetables.  This  was  a  lottery  without  blanks. — 
The  bread  was  easily  divided. 

Sept.  3— Our  squadron  again  attacked  the  place. 
Our  gunboats  were  an  hour  and  fifteen  minutes  in 
action.  They  disabled  several  of  the  enemy's 
gallics  and  boats,  and  considerably  damaged  Fort- 
English.  Most  of  our  boats  received  damage  inr 
the  rigging  and  sails.  About  50  shrtls  were 
thrown  into  town  and  our  boats  threw  400  round 
shot,  besides  grape  and  canister.  None  of  the 
shells  however,  or  but  very  few  of  them,  burst — 
owing  probably  to  unskilful  bombardiers.  O.i 
the  7th  of  Sept.  Cora.  Pn-ble  retired  from  the 
siege— On  the  10th,  the  U.  S.  ship  President 
Com.  Barren,  and  Constellation  dipt  Campbell*. 
hove  in  sight,  and  soon  joined  company,  when  the 
command  of  the  squadron  was  surrendered  to 
Coin.  Barren,  with  the  usual  ceremony.  No  fur- 


AUTHOR'S  LIFE.  247 

•J'.cr  operations   were  carried  on   against  Tripoli 
for  this  season. 

Our  men  were  employed,  much  against  their  will 
in  repairing  the  damages  done  by  the  several  attacks 
ni>.'»n  the  forts  and  batteries,  and  no  hopes  of  re 
demption  for  this  season.  Nov.  9 — Our  rations 
from  the  Danish  Consul  were  discontinued.  Nov. 
20 — A  great  scarcity  of  bread — and  our  men  were 
obliged  to  sell  their  clothes  which  they  hail  lately 
druvn,  and  for  which  they  must  sufi'er,  to  keep 
from  starving.  Dec.  10 — Starving  n^ain  —GUI 
keepers  opened  the  prison,  doors  in  I  he  morning 
and  ordered  us  "lota -fora!"  (all  out.) — Xot  a 
man  moved,  and  we  unanimously  resolved  that  if 
death  should  be  (lie  consequence,  not  to  turn  out 
another  day  \vitlu  ut  food,  and  this  brought  the 
Turks  to  terms  for  that  time.  Being  commissary 
several,  I  had  an  apartment  fitted  up  for  an  office 
and  store  house  atone  end  of  the  yard,  with  only 
one  other  to  attend  «ne,  so  that  I  fared  rather  bet 
ter  than  the  rest,  arid  in  fact  had  considerable 
respect  shown  me.  From  the  20th  Feb.  we  had  a 
liiekamseen  (4  cents)  allowed  to  each  man  per  dav, 
and  my  business  was  among  other  duties,  to  go 
to  the  Danish  Consul  every  morning,  get  the  RIO- 
nev  which  was  commonly  in  gold,  procure  change 
•in  buckamscens,  and  pay  it  out  to  the  men. — 
From  the  first  of  March  until  the  peace  was  mado 
in  June,  our  frigates  and  other  vessels  appeared 
occasionally  oft"  the  harbor,  and  our  poor  fellows 
were  sure  to  suffer  for  it  at  every  time  they  ap 
peared.  The  Turks  were  in  constant  terror  and 
alarm — preparations  continually  making  I'm-  de 
fence,  until  the  third  day  of  Jnr.f*  1805,  when 
articles  of  peace  were  signed  abnuf  4  o'clock  in 
"^  afternoon,  and  a  salute  was  fired  from  the  fri- 


243  SKETCH  OF  THE 

gates  and  batteries.  This  was  the  sweetest  musta 
that  ever  sounded  in  my  ears  We  remained  in 
Tripoli  that  night,  and  the  next  day  went  aboard 
of  different  ships — I  was  sent  to  the  Essex.  We 
left  those  of  our  crew  who  had  turned  Turk,  in 
Tripoli — viz.  Wilson,  West,  Smith,  Hixmer,  and 
Prince.  Smith  and  Prince  were  Americans— the 
others  foreigners.  I  was  made  captain's  clerk  on 
board  the  Essex,  which  on  the  4th  of  July  was  ly 
ing  in  Syracuse  harbor.  Being  requested  the  day 
before  to  prepare  a  song  for  the  celebration  of  Inde 
pendence  ashore,  f  wrote  the  following,  which 
was  suns;  at  table  by  consul  Lear  and  encored  three 
or  four  times.  General  Eaton  was  present,  and  he 
insisted  on  my  taking  a  seat  beside  him,  which  I 
did,  and  had  the  pleasure  of  taking  a  glass  of  wine 
with  that  hero  now  conquered  by  death.  Our  whole 
squadron  were  here,  and  there  were  a  great  many 
j»tficers  present — But  the  song. 

H:ul  Independence  !  hail  once  more! 

To  meet  thee  on  a  foreign  shore, 
Our  hearts  and  souls  rejoice  ; 

To  see  thy  sons  assembled  here, 

Thy  name  is  rendered  doubly  dear- 
More  charming  is  thy  voice. 

\  host  of  heroes  bright  with  fame, 
A  Preble  and  Decatur's  name, 

Our  grateful  songs  demand  ; 
And  let  our  voices  loudly  rise, 
At  Eaton's  daring  enterprise, 

And  red  victorious  hai.d. 

That  recreant  horde  ofbarb'rous  foes, 
Our  deathless  heroes  bled  t'  oppose, 
Can  never  stand  the  test, 


AUTHORS  LIFE.  249 

When  grappled  with  our  dauntless  tars, 
Their  crescent  wanes  beside  our  stars, 
And  quickly  sinks  to  rest. 

Thy  spirit,  born  in  darkest  times, 
Illumes  the  v. odd's  remotest  climes,. 

Where'er  thy  champions  tread 

Like  lightning  liash'd  on  liarb'ry's  plains — 
Dis»olv'd  the  groaning  captive's  chains, 

And  struck  the  oppressor  dead. 

llaii  Independence!  glorious  day, 
Which  chased  the  clouds  of  night  away. 

That  o'er  our  country  hung  ; 

Re-tune  the  voice,  and  let  us  hear 
The  song  encoie — a  louder  cheer 

Resound  from  every  tongue. 

Kirzza !  may  freedom's  banners  wave, 
Those  banners  that  have  freed  the  slave, 

With  new  all-conqu'ring  charms; 
Til!  nature's  works  in  death  shall  rest 
And  never  may  the  Tar  be  pressed 

But  in  his  fair  one's  arms. 

It  will  be  recollected  that  Gen.  Katon  took  the 
town  of  Derne  while  our  squadron  was  blockading 
Tripoli,  and  that  his  bravery  contributed  ^reuth  to 
the  humbling  of  the  Regency,  and  bringing  him  to 
close  with  i!ie  terms  of  peace  madr  i>\  Col.  Lear. 

When  1  went  on  board  the  E-.SL-X,  it  was  ex- 
r-c-cied  she  would  sail  for  America  in  a  snort  time. 
The  President  sailed  in  September,  and  the  most 
of  the  pri-oners  went  home  in  :.er;  but  when  I 
applied  to  go  with.  t'.jcm,  the  oilicers  oi  the  Essex 


250  SKETCH  OF  THE 

told  me  that  we  should  sail  in  about  six  week«j 
and  as  I  had  a  good  station  aboard,  persuaded  me 
to  remain.  The  Essex,  as  it  happened;  did  not 
sail  until  the  next  June.  My  situation,  however, 
on  board  of  this  frigate  was  very  pleasant.  We 
visited  Tunis,  Algiers.  Tangier,  Malaga,  Cadiz, 
and  Gibraltar.  My  duty  was  very  easy,  and  iny 
liv'mjj  of  the  best  kind.  About  the  12th  of  June, 
Com.  Rogers  took  command  of  the  Essex,  and 
Capt.  Campbell  went  on  board  the  Constitution  and 
remained  as  Commodore  on  the  station. — We  sail 
ed  for  America,  was  in  the  middle  of  the  Atlantic 
at  the  time  of  the  great  eclipse,  and  arrived  at 
the  city  of  Washington  about  (he  middle  of  Au 
gust,  1806 — having  been  absent  from  my  native 
country  upwards  of  three  years — sometimes  at  a 
distance  of  6000  miles — a  prisoner  in  Tripoli  nine 
teen  months  and  four  days,  and  on  the  ocean  the 
remainder  of  the  time.  I  staid  in  Washington 
about  a  week,  to  got  some  clothes  made,  and  reach 
ed  my  family,  a  wife  and  one  child,  whom  I  found 
well,  about  the  first  of  September. 

In  the  fall  of  1809,  I  removed  to  the  county  of 
Essex,  where  I  again  commenced  merchandize, 
and  again  unsuccessful.  Here  1  was  appointed 
a  Justice  of  the  peace,  and  in  1812,  on  the  de 
claration  of  war,  1  tendered  my  services  to  Gov. 
Tompkins,  and  was  appointed  Brigade  Quarter 
master  of  the  3d  Brigade  of  detached  militia,  with 
the  pay  and  rank  of  Major.  1  immediately  repair 
ed  to  my  station  at  Pittsburgh,  where  1  remained 
about  six  months,  until  the  militia  were  discharged, 
and  then  removed  with  my  family  to  Whitefcbo- 
i«»ugh.  Here  1  resided  until  yj  ring,  intending  to 
enter  the  regular  service  ;  but  altering  my  deter 
mination,  not  however,  fcr  the  waul  oi  a  station,  I 


AUTHOR'S  LIFE.  231 

removed  to  Herkimer,  where  I  spent  the  summer  i 
and  in  the  winter  of  1814,  I  removed  to  the  vil 
lage  of  Skaneateles  in  the  coumy  of  Onondaga,  and 
went  into  the  Druggist  business.  P?ace  being 
concluded  when  I  had  a  considerable  stock  of 
goods  on  hand,  purchased  at  war  prices,  I  was 
once  more  compelled  to  quit  business  ;  and  in 
January  1816,  I  removed  to  the  village  of  Onon 
daga  Court  House,  where  I  have  resided  ever 
since,  holding  from  the  spring  after  I  came  here 
until  last  winter,  the  office  of  magistrate,  and  for 
some  part  of  the  time,  a  commissioner  in  courts  of 
record.  &c.  Ever  since  I  lived  in  this  county,  I 
have  been  attached  to  the  Protestant  Episcopal 
Church,  which  I  believe  to  be  the  true  apostolical 
one,  and  from  which  1  hope  never  to  be  separated, 
neither  on  earth  nor  in  heaven.  1  hope,  however, 
that  I  am  not  destitute  of  charity  towards  Chris 
tians  of  all  denominations — and  the  whole  race  of 
mankind.  My  doubts  as  to  the  truth  of  the  Chris 
tian  Religion  have  long  been  dissipated,  and  I 
trust  will  never  return.  In  politics  1  have  always 
been  a  republican,  and  always  shall  be.  The  Ethi 
opian  can  as  well  change  his  skin,  or  the  Leopard 
his  spot,  as  I  can  my  political  creed.  I  have  had 
many  warm  contests  with  men  whom  t  highly 
esteem  in  every  oilier  respect,  which  I  sincerely 
regret,  although  1  make  no  concessions,  for  1  was 
sincerelv  persuaded,  at  the  time,  that  I  was  right. 

Having  in  my  proposals  confined  myself  to  a  cer 
tain  number  of  pages  ir«  this  publication.  I  have 
been  obliged  to  pass  over  many  important  scenes 
in  mv  lil«-  for  wsnt  of  t«ufficient  room. 

1  have  seen  a  coiisidcrable  j  ortior  of  the  world-— 
teen  acquainted  uith  ]  ecp'e  of  all  miti<  i:s  ai:c!  of 
•all  ite&cript ions,  under  e\ery  citcunibtuhce  and  iu 


252  SKETCH  OF  THE 

every  situation  ;  and  the  result  of  my  cspeiiencr 
has  brought  me  to  the  conclusion, — 


--"  Tl  at  happiness  sincere 


I§  no  where  to  be-  found,  or  ev'ry  where; 

TJiat  virtue,  only,  is  our  bliss  below  — 

And  ail  uur  kuowiedge  is OURSELVES   TO  KNOW'" 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


25Mar'64lM 

REC'D  LD 

AUG31'64-4F 

M 

MOV  0420ii 

General  Library 


